Hermione Granger and the Wounds of Time
by Rouch
Summary: Tom Riddle has a plan to defeat his future enemies. He'll take down the entire Order of the Phoenix from the past and he'll use Hermione to do it. An AU time travel story with Harmony. Takes place during the Half Blood Prince. Young Tom Riddle, young(er) Albus Dumbledore, and some Newt Scamander in the mix.
1. The End of the Beginning

A/N: Ok, so full disclosure, I have a terrible habit of getting stuck in my writing and not always finishing my fanfics. This one has been in my mind for a long time. I wanted to do it justice but still be considerate of the readers. So, I forced myself to write the story in its entirety before posting a single chapter. The result is 150 pages, and nearly 90,000 words. There needs to be an editing process since this was started in July and I haven't gone back with a careful eye to every chapter. I'll be posting one chapter at a time, but promise to update at least once a week until complete, likely more frequently. You all also know how reviews can be a motivating force to post, so please review along the way if you're enjoying the tale.

Timeline and Canon: This takes place during the Half Blood Prince and starts right after the Christmas holiday. When the books and movies did not align, I tried to stick to the book, but you'll see this will take several alternate universe paths along the way.

Tags: Harry & Hermione relationship, time travel, young Tom Riddle, young(er) Dumbledore & Hermione friendship, Ron didn't deserve Hermione so no Heron/Romione ship here…

**Hermione Granger and the Wounds of Time**

**Chapter 1: The End of the Beginning (Jan 3, 1997 - Jan 7, 1944)**

_Hermione sat at a beat up wooden desk, surrounded by books. The quill tip scratching along her parchment was the only sound as she took notes. She didn't know what answer she was seeking, but instinct told her it was urgent. Flipping the page, a planetary map shifted and dates flipped along the upper right hand corner. _

_The scratching continued. A deep groan rumbled. The scratching stopped. Hermione looked over her shoulder trying to peer through the darkness. Turning back to her book, her brow creased as she concentrated. Listening. Shaking it off, she flipped the page again. A series of old yearbook photos lined the page. Scanning the moving headshots, Hermione's eyes focused on a young man dressed in Slytherin robes. His hair neatly in place, a long thin nose, and a square jaw. He was handsome, but something in the eyes caused a chill to rise up her back. The rumble engulfed the room, shaking her ink bottle. Pushing back from the table, the chair legs rubbing against the wooden floor created an odd harmony to the rumble. _

_Standing, Hermione reached for her wand. Her hand came back empty. Before she could search for it, the rumble became a roar and the darkness drew into a ball in front of her. Its nebulous form hovered three feet off the ground, stretching the length of the bookcase. She took a step back, watching it contract, taking the form of a person. It remained black…no not black, just devoid of light, she decided. Soon the form was of a man, still a shadow void. It stepped forward. With every ounce of courage, she stood her ground. The silence of its movement was nearly as unsettling as its form. Then they were toe to toe._

_She opened her mouth to ask its identity, in a blink, the darkness was gone and the boy from the yearbook photo stood facing her. He smirked and let out a sudden scream, lunging at her. _

Hermione woke with a start.

The movement was so sudden, Ginny turned in her bed, "All alright, 'Mione?" she slurred with sleep. They had all gotten back from the Christmas holidays that day and stayed up very late catching up. Of course Harry had filled her in on the visit from the Minister, but Hermione wanted all the details from Ginny. There was also a lot of gossip Ginny overheard and had to share. Things the members of the Order of the Phoenix let slip, the other side of the Daily Prophet articles.

They had both fallen asleep talking to each other. When no answer came, the redhead propped herself up on her elbows and looked in on her friend.

Hermione held Ginny's gaze. Her face conveyed a sense of dread. And in a blink, she was gone.

~~/~~

For Hermione, that blink radically altered her surroundings. Before she could blink again, she heard a series of spells that resulted in her complete blindness and immobility. Letting out a gasp, she was so disoriented it didn't register that that movement of air meant she could talk. The air changed near her, a presence was hovering much like her dream.

"Hermione Granger?" a low voice asked from above her. Not too high above her. She must still be on a bed she considered, but then ruled that out after feeling the hardness of the surface pressing back up at her. A table. "Are you Hermione Granger? A sixth year in Gryffindor?" the voice asked again with less patience.

Trying to nod her head, she realized how totally immobile she was and decided whoever this was had used an effective _petrificus totalus_ spell but somehow isolated the spell so she could still speak. She cleared her throat, "Yes. Who are you?" she asked hoping to sound more confident than she felt.

He ignored her question. Instead, she felt him pull up her sleeve of her left arm. His fingers trailed up and down the inside of her forearm. Without warning, he spoke a hex she had never heard of _ior torris_ and pain radiated up from her forearm and spread over her chest, taking her breath away. Before she could take that breath back to scream, she felt a pull at her shoulders and had the sensation of falling.

~~/~~

Minerva McGonagall was listening to a panicked Ginny Weasley explain why she had summoned her head of house in the middle of the night when a feeling of electricity filled the room. Feeling the hairs on her arms stand up, Minerva turned toward the empty bed, and pushed Ginny behind her protectively.

A flash of light and a small pop was followed by a cry of pain. Hermione lay on her bed again, her eyes squeezed shut. McGonagall rushed to the bedside and placed a comforting hand on the top of the head of the terrified girl. "Shh, easy Ms. Granger. You're ok," she soothed hoping she was right. Surveying the trembling form, her eyes landed on the inside of her forearm. Burned into the skin was a rune that she had only seen in books, but filled her with dread. Minerva felt the building electricity again and she nearly lost her balance as Hermione disappeared under her hand.

~~/~~

The sudden changes left Hermione reeling. Between the lingering pain in her arm and nausea, her vision was blurry. Blinking she saw the boy from her dream step up. Instead of immobilizing her, this time he pointed his wand and whispered, "_Relligo_."

Rough ropes wrapped around her wrists and ankles, digging painfully into her skin.

"_Caecus_," he said again and her world went completely dark.

Repeating his earlier motion, his fingers now traced the lines of the wound on her arm. She flinched, trying to move away, but it was a futile effort. The bindings didn't budge. She could hear him talking, presumably to himself, as she didn't think anyone else was there…wherever she was. Perhaps he was talking _at_ her. "The serpent rune. It was necessary to know for sure she was really here, and not just a manifestation of the room," he said and follow up with a whoop of excitement. It sounded like he was celebrating.

Clearing her throat, she spoke up, "What do you want?"

Steps echoed off the walls as he moved to her side again. "I thought you wanted to know who I was?" he said, reminding her of her earlier question.

Weighing her options, which weren't many, she thought a direct approach may gain her some leverage. "You're Tom Riddle," she said matter-of-factly. "What do you want?" The returned silence told her she had won that round.

"They told me you were the brightest witch of your age. Good, that will make this easier, and it seems we don't need this now." he said as lifted the blinding curse. He leaned down close to her ear. The faint almond scent of her shampoo wafted up causing Riddle to breath in deeply. It pleased him to watch the slight shudder his action elicited. She would be fun to toy with he thought. "What I want Hermione, is to know what you know." His eyes roamed her body. He raised his wand and whispered, "_Legilimens_."

The sudden intrusion into her mind was so unexpected she had no time prepare a defense. Memories rushed through her mind's eye like a movie playing in fast forward but also out of order. He was searching and she had to stop him before he found what he was looking for. Ordinarily the thought of fighting off a skilled wizard like Voldemort would seem impossible, but this wasn't Voldemort. Yet. Somehow, either through manifestation or time travel or some other method, this was Tom Riddle, Hogwarts student. This thought emboldened her. He was always a powerful wizard, but this wizard wouldn't know much more than her. With great effort, she shed herself of emotions, stamping down the fear, and her thoughts, clearing her mind.

Frustration at her defiance caused his hand to reach up and wrap around her throat. Her occulmency was too adapt to shake, even as he doubled his concentration. This did surprise him. He released her and stepped back. This girl would be a worthy challenge he thought. There were so many spells he was curious to try. Where to start he wondered and turned back to the girl bound to the stone table in front of him. Pointing his wand again, a tremble of excitement coursed through him. He had already used two of the three unforgivable curses, but hadn't found a victim for the final curse, "_Crucio_."

This particular spell hadn't been as unexpected, but there was no counter curse for it, no mental defense. Having never experienced this curse however, the actual experience was unexpected. It felt like her arms and legs were lingering too close to a fire. The fiery pain grew, eliciting a moan, but ended as quickly as it started. Relief emboldened her, "You have to mean it," her voice wavered, thinking of what Voldemort himself said to Harry when had tried to cast the curse last year.

This remark caused him to physically lash out, slapping her face with such force her ears were ringing and a deep gash was left in the wake along her cheek bone. She felt blood trickle down her cheek while the sting lingered. "_Crucio_," he said again. This time it wielded the edge of his anger. While it packed more power, it still didn't have a lasting effect. Fire exploded throughout her body, when the scream didn't last he repeated the curse in multiple succession. Each time, the pain grew until she nearly blacked out. Finally, he tried legilimency again, and memories came unbidden in her mind. She tried to keep up with the flashes to figure out what he dismissed as unimportant. It would help her figure out what he was really seeking.

She allowed him the time to shuffle through her memories, gambling on her ability to stop him before he found the information he wanted. It served two purposes, temporary relief from the onslaught and information. As the memories slowed to summer breaks between Hogwarts terms, she was starting to put the pieces together. It was enough and she decided it was time to fight back again. At first she tried to simply blank her mind, but quickly realized defense wasn't enough. Shifting tactics, she focused her thoughts on boring evenings like studying and weekends spent watching quidditch practice. When the mundane started to fail, she focused on happy times, not thrilled with sharing them with Riddle, but decided it was better than the alternative.

Without warning, a bell sounded and his intrusions stopped. His hand clamped down on the firebrand on her forearm and he groaned in frustration. "Until next time, Hermione," he said and released her. Once again she felt the pull on her shoulders and was falling through time.

~~/~~

Albus Dumbledore walked up the staircase to the Gryffindor girl's dormitory. He had no more than walked through the gates of Hogwarts before he was met by Filius Flitwick. The details were scarce but he picked up on the urgency. It had been a bit early for breakfast, but he needed the rest of the students out of the dorms and common room and set Flitwick on the task of convening all students in the great hall before a quick detour to his office to pick up his book of _Ancient Runes, Hexes, and Dark Marks_. Entering the first room to the right of the stairs he studied the small group. McGonagall was speaking in whispered tones to Harry, Ron, and Ginny. The three students were clearly not going to the early breakfast. Dumbledore didn't blame them.

When the presence of the Headmaster was felt, all four turned to the entrance. Albus waited in silence until Ginny Weasley stepped forward. "Tell me, Ms. Weasley," he said kindly. Before the story could be told to him again, everyone felt the change in the room. Turning to the empty bed by the window, Hermione Granger appeared. The group started forward as one until Dumbledore motioned them back, handing the book he carried to his colleague. Looking at the trembling girl, he couldn't help but feel sympathy for her apparent pain, but he needed to know what was happening. Any magic strong enough to reach inside the castle was certainly magic to be concerned over. Especially now. He only knew Hermione to be a strong, brilliant, and courageous witch. Whatever happened to her to make her curl into a protective ball amplified those concerns. He moved purposefully to her bedside and conjured a chair. Sitting, he reached out to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. She flinched, but seemed to steal herself with a deep breath and opened her eyes. To Albus' surprise, they were determined and strong despite the physical toll her body seemed to have taken.

"Ms. Granger, are you gravely injured?" he asked, forcing himself to delay the question he most needed to ask. He took in the rope burns on her wrists. The bruises and dried blood on her face. He watched her cradle her left arm closer to her chest, but she gave a small shake of her head. He nodded, "I know you're hurt. Can you tell me what happened before we bring you to the hospital wing?"

Hesitantly Hermione looked to her friends and then back to the headmaster. "It was Tom Riddle. I don't know how, but I think he brought me back in time," she started. "To maybe his sixth or seventh year. I didn't get a good look. He had a prefect's badge. I think we were somewhere in Hogwarts."

It explained why the magic seemed to have penetrated the school. It came from within the school. "What did he want?" he asked moving forward on his chair.

"I think he wants to know about the Order. He tried to get into my memories. They slowed down when he found memories outside of school. I don't know very much; I don't know why he chose me."

"May I see your arm?" he asked nodding toward the limb she still guarded protectively. With some hesitation, she let him support it as he pushed up her sleeve. The angry brand was simple, a straight line with an x in the center. She too was seeing the mark for the first time and inhaled sharply. "You know this rune?"

She nodded. "Ior. 'The world serpent has us all in its grip; lord of eternity the cycle of birth and death'." The recitation came clearly from a textbook.

McGonagall let out a soft chuckle, "It seems you won't be needing your book Albus."

"But we may need Severus to help remove it," he acknowledged. It wasn't the dark mark that branded his deatheaters, but it was clear Voldemort had the idea decades before. It had merely evolved. Looking at the black streaks emanating from the brand, Albus glanced at his own cursed hand. Unlike his, he was hopeful hers could be contained and removed. Still supporting the injured arm, Dumbledore now felt the continuous tremor coursing through her body. Unfortunately, he suspected the cause. "Did he use the cruciatus curse on you too?"

Hermione tried to take her arm back, but Dumbledore held on gently. "He wasn't very good at it. He wasn't very good at legilimency either. But he was getting better towards the end," she confessed. "I think he's going to take me again… he has to wait for something to happen. I'm not sure how he did it. He had some sort of timer, so I don't think he can't take me whenever he wants to."

Her words hung in the air while they all considered this thought.

"Or maybe he'll take someone else?" Now there was real fear in her voice. Concern for her friends, for members of the Order.

"I think he's limited to people on the grounds of Hogwarts," Dumbledore reasoned. "Somehow, he must know your connection to Harry and we know he's aware of Harry because of the journal. I don't think he'd take a professor, he's a talented wizard at that age, but these spells he's using require experience he doesn't have yet. Any of Harry's friends may be a target. I suspect you're his focus for the same reason he went after Harry and not Mr. Longbottom. For all the pureblood rhetoric, he himself is a half-blood. Short of getting to Mr. Potter, you're the student he's identified as his equal." Dumbledore's heart swelled as he watched relief flood her face thinking her friends were safe even as that meant she wasn't. "Can you tell me how long you were there?" he asked, hoping to understand if the time she experienced was running in parallel or different altogether. It would help him work out how Tom may have accomplished such a complicated display of magic.

"It's hard to… it seemed like…" Hermione started, trying to push past the memories of pain that had changed her perception of time. "The first time was very quick, just long enough to make sure I didn't see him and to cast the hex. Maybe two minutes. The second time, I think about three hours."

Dumbledore looked to Ginny Weasley and Minerva. They nodded and Ginny spoke up, "The first time, I only had enough time to run down the hall to Professor McGonagall's room and back. The second time, she was gone for two hours and forty-six minutes." Dumbledore smiled at the precision. "I watched the clock. I thought maybe the longer she was gone…" Ginny trailed off remembering the fear she had for her friend, thinking she may never see her again.

"Shall we get you to Madam Pomfrey? Can you walk?" asked Dumbledore. Offering an unconvincing smile, she tried to move. A sharp intake of breath told her what everyone in the room already knew. "A hover charm?" he offered.

It wasn't the way she wanted anyone to see her, but she wasn't sure what choice she had. Moving was excruciating and she guessed walking was out of the question.

"I can carry her," Harry spoke up. He'd been transported to the hospital wing enough times to know how humiliating the process could be. The hover charm always left him feeling exposed. At least if he carried her, she could bury her head from prying eyes. His friend nodded at him gratefully. As he moved to her bedside to lift her, Dumbledore started for the door.

"I'll be right behind you. I do think we'll need Professor Snape for that hex."

It wasn't offered as an option and Harry kept his protest to himself. Lifting his friend with ease, he never really appreciated how light she was. The movement elicited some grunts and groans while she tried to remain stoic. Once firmly in his arms, her right hand grasped the front of his shirt, she turned her head into his shoulder. As he started walking, he felt the tremor Dumbledore had also felt. Rage welled up within him over the use of the cruciatus curse on his best friend. As he too headed for the stairs his eyes met Ron's. Ron and Hermione weren't on the best terms at the moment owing to Ron's relationship with Lavender Brown. Harry could tell Ron was jealous he wasn't the one comforting Hermione. Harry couldn't find the energy to care. As far as he was concerned, the rift between his two friends was Ron's to fix.

~~/~~

Dumbledore walked down the changing stairway and glanced at the moving paintings. Catching the eye of a knight following his movement he spoke, "Tell Severus to meet me in his office." The armor clad figure saluted and ran out of his frame.

The headmaster was taking two steps at a time. His mind racing through the possibilities. How Tom had performed this magic? Why he was doing it? How would he get the information to his future self? What did Voldemort have planned with that information?

This turn of events had been so unexpected the questions were going to require time to work out. And he feared an owl to the ministry. Time travel was not a magic that could take a wait-and-see approach. The ripple of changes could be severe and may have already happened. They needed safe guards in place and he couldn't do that alone or from Hogwarts.

Coming to an abrupt halt outside his potions master's office, the bearded man took a moment to compose himself. Opening the door, he saw Snape standing by his desk talking to a figure in a painting. He turned to the headmaster. "Is it true? Riddle was able to bring Granger back to his time?"

Grateful the rumor mill worked fast, Albus nodded. "You didn't know about this?" The question wasn't accusatory, but Snape's back straightened.

"Certainly not. If I had an inkling he had such a dangerous plan in motion, I would have told you. I would have warned the Dark Lord against such a plan."

"We have to protect Grimmauld place, but we may be able to draw him out with the right planted memory."

For all of the outward disdain for Harry Potter and his friends, Snape was still responsible for the safety of the students. Particularly from Voldemort. Even the insufferable ones. He often found himself at odds with Dumbledore when it came to the risks he was willing to take. "Headmaster, wouldn't it be more prudent to prevent the girl from being taken again?" he started with a long drawl.

"Of course Severus, but we might not have time. Even now, she's at risk. If we can misdirect Riddle to an expendable safe house, we can see who shows up. Perhaps gain an advantage."

Snape turned away to think. "The Deatheaters already suspect Grimmauld is being used by the Order. Bellatrix has tried to go there and discovered it is unplottable. Would it be so bad if it was lost?"

"When I'm gone, everyone who's been there will become secret keeper, and will be at risk. Including yourself. The less Voldemort knows about the real Headquarters the better," said Dumbledore.

At that Snape turned back. He was always shocked at how flippantly Albus would speak about his impending death. The two knew it was a matter of time as the curse in his hand continued to take hold, but the reality of how he would ultimately face his death was something Snape still found distasteful. "Somewhere in Hogsmeade then? Many think we have a location there, and it would be easiest to plan an ambush so close. Granger would certainly have real memories we could…manipulate." The last carried more disdain than the younger man planned, but it also hit its mark. "The Hog's Head Inn?"

"I believe Aberforth holds more contempt than you do at the suggestion of including students in the Order. And we will need the inn in the future I suspect. The Shrieking Shack is already compromised by Mr. Pettigrew. We'll need to put up some convincing defenses, and quickly."

"I'll go at once—"

"No," Dumbledore interrupted. "I'll send Minerva. Riddle has placed a mark on Ms. Granger that will require your expertise. We need to prepare her for a convincing occulmency effort and I think we'll need your stock of veritaserum antidote."

The implication of the words caused Snape's lip curl up in disapproval, but he kept his mouth shut. Everyone was making sacrifices. The trick was to find the ones that were easiest to live with.

~~/~~

Hermione lay on the hospital bed watching the colorful scene enchanted onto the ceiling play out. A centaur ran through a mist-covered forest ground, stars and planets shifting above it. Occasionally a unicorn would make an appearance. When she squinted to make out the details of bowtruckles peeking out from tree branches, pain in her cheek reminded her of the physical blow. Lifting her right hand, she tentatively prodded her cheek bone. A hand came up and pulled hers back. Looking over, she saw Harry sitting by her side.

"It never feels better when you mess with it," he explained, a knowing smile graced his mouth, but not his eyes. His eyes were laced with concern.

She squeezed his hand back, glanced to Ron and quickly back to Harry. Before she could say anything, a flurry of activity caught their attention. Madam Pomfrey was leading Dumbledore and Snape to her. The three adults were grim faced. Hermione could tell they all wanted to speak, but no one wanted to start.

Dumbledore looked to Snape and back to Hermione. "We have much to do, and might not have much time to do it." Pausing, he got a nod from Hermione who then looked nervously at her friends on the other side of the bed. Harry stood up, ready to take whatever action was needed. The two Weasley siblings behind him followed suit. "First, I agree with you that this is likely about getting information on the Order. We need to take some memories away and replace them," he began.

"Replace them? Will I get them back?"

"As soon as it is safe. But the new memories. It will be important that you put up a fight…do you understand?" Dumbledore asked, Snape shifted behind him.

Having fought off Riddle's intrusion already, she knew what her headmaster was asking. Cold fear seemed to grip her throat. She tried to clear it, but still couldn't find her voice. Suddenly aware of how sweaty her palm was becoming, she looked again at Harry. He was staring in disbelief.

"You can't be serious?" he blurted out. "You're going to just let him take her again?"

Dumbledore half turned toward Snape and back to Harry. "We do, of course, want to figure out how this has happened and will stop him. But we can't assume we'll do that in time. We must plan for all scenarios."

"Harry he's right. I can do this," Hermione told him. "But I don't have—"

Ron stepped forward, offering Hermione her wand.

They both gave each other shy smiles, and to Harry's relief he saw some of the ice crack. Looking back to Dumbledore, she reached out a shaking hand to accept a small bottle he offered. Her sleeve slipped down, reminding her of the firebrand. She suspected this was the next subject for discussion. But first, she concentrated on every meeting of the Order she knew about, every detail that would compromise its members. Touching the tip of her wand to her temple, she drew back thick, silvery strands. The original memory, not a copy. Carefully placing them into the bottle. Handing the memories over, she fought back the sense of loss. Dumbledore took the bottle, Snape offered her a second.

"We will also need your memories of the Shrieking Shack. We're going to… change them," Snape explained.

Hesitantly she took the offered bottle, closed her eyes and remember the first time she had laid eyes on the dilapidated structure. It was a happy memory. And then the fear she had felt going through the tunnel to save Ron replaced that memory. More silvery strands were produced then placed delicately in the bottle. Tears threatened to fall, but she kept them at bay.

With that task done, Snape moved forward. "Your arm?" he asked, though it was missing the impatient edge that typically laced his interactions with her. She put her wand down. Reached out for Harry's hand again. Snape's rough fingers touched her bare skin. The days she spent slaving away at potions had often left her fingers and hands rough and burned. The harsh ingredients and high temperatures took a toll. He certainly practiced his craft, she thought. Despite their roughness, his touch was one of care. She followed his gaze to the angry welt. Her pulse throbbed at the site and she was convinced the dark edges had spread. "_Revelare_," he said. The rune glowed for a moment, but then thin lines that looked like spider webs radiated out from the spreading darkness, revealing the extent of the mark.

Hermione looked up at Snape. Noted the concern. He looked at Dumbledore who mirrored the concern and then back to the her. "We must move quickly. This will be painful. You'll need to keep your arm still when I begin or I will have to start over," Snape warned her and then looked at the trio of students. "We may need you to hold her down."

Fear rose up but she tried to be brave. Madam Promfrey came around, took hold of Hermione's wrist and supported her arm at the elbow.

"Ready?" Snape asked her and after a slight nod, he leveled his wand again and spoke, "_Deiectionem_."

It felt like he was tearing the skin away to grab and twist the muscles underneath. She watched dark tendrils oozed from her skin up to his wand tip. They writhed like giant leeches being pulled from a log. A noise filled her ears and she soon realized it was her screams of pain. Feeling a weight on her legs, she saw Ginny was leaning across them. Harry hovered over her pinning her shoulders to the bed. Snape's lips were moving but there was no sound in her world other than her screams. The tendrils continued to follow the wand, but they were still embedded in her arm. Her vision wavered. Darkness seemed to creep in from all sides. Surrendering to the darkness would have been a relief; however, that peace never came. The pain kept her on the edge of consciousness. Finally, one of the tendrils released its attachment to her which seemed to result in a cascade as the others followed in rapid succession. Snape's wand snapped upward when the last leechlike shape gave way.

Hermione let out a sob. The pain lingered but the intensity was fading fast. Pomfrey held her arm firmly in place, examining the damage. Daring a look at her friends. Harry was talking to her, nonsense words of comfort. Ginny looked guilty for having participated in her pain. Ron was white as a sheet, tears in his eyes and he was leaning heavily on the bed frame next to hers.

"Hermione," Harry's words finally reached her. She blinked away the tears and tried to steady her breathing. Dumbledore passed him a cup which Harry took. He brought the rim to her mouth. The cool water soothed her raw throat.

Relaxing her grip on his other hand, she saw there were red welts where her finger nails had dug in. Trying to withdraw from him, Hermione pulled her hand back, but Harry's shaking hand held it in place. Exhausted, Hermione leaned back on her pillow and rolled her head to look at her arm.

Madam Pomfrey was applying some paste to the site. A red outline of the original rune shown through. "The wound will be gone soon. Just give it some time," she explained and started wrapping a white bandage around the wound.

Exhausted, Hermione closed her eyes, welcoming the darkness.

Harry watched his friend slip away into sleep. He was shaken. His only consolation was that Severus Snape seemed to be as disturbed by what had just transpired. In fact, everyone in the room seemed as if they had just survived a trauma.

Dumbledore was the first to speak. "You three should go get some air. She'll likely be out for a while," he said addressing the Harry, Ron, and Ginny. He seemed to know none were about to leave their friend's side. "At least take turns getting some rest," he relented pointing to an empty bed and then turning to his potion's master. "Severus, we have work to do, I think Madam Pomfrey can take it from here."

~~/~~

"We should be spending this time setting up protections around the girl," Snape protested as the pair worked around Dumbledore's pensieve in his office. He still felt sick about the pain he had just inflicted on Hermione. "We can't send her back to him, to let him do that to her again."

"Severus, what protections would you suggest that aren't already in place around the school?" the headmaster asked flicking his wand, nodding satisfactorily. The silence continued, Dumbledore stopped and looked up at his companion. "Why do you go through so much effort to hide this protective side you have?"

"I think we both know my job outside of this school is easier if everyone else thinks I'm a loyal deatheater. If the ministry falls, the Dark Lord will want someone in place here that will teach the students according to his standards. Its best the students think I am that man before it comes to that," he said knowing this was only half true. Caring for another person who could one day end up in Voldemort's cross hairs was an emotional risk he was unwilling to take. If anything, this situation confirmed his walls were sound.

If Dumbledore picked up on the unspoken thoughts, he kindly kept his words to himself. "I understand your concern Severus. Until we know how Tom Riddle has accomplished this magic, we don't know what can be done. I'm not allowing this to play out just to plant this memory if that's what you're thinking. Once these tasks are complete and in place is when I suspect the real work will begin. The fact is, we don't know when Tom will take her again. This is the first, best protection we can give her." The older man paused and looked up as if something was just now occurring to him. He placed a hand on Snape's forearm who looked up. "He have one more memory we have to change. We can't allow Tom to see you removing the mark."


	2. The Reality Branch

**Chapter 2: The Reality Branch**

Harry wasn't particularly excited to see the Headmaster return so quickly. He guessed it had been about two hours. Aside from the steady rise and fall of Hermione's chest, she was sleeping so deeply she hadn't moved a muscle. If Dumbledore was back, that meant her rest was over for the moment. Ron and Ginny had gone to get some things for Hermione and some food, in case she was hungry when she woke up. Harry decided to stay, even though he knew there would be nothing he could do if she was attacked again.

"Harry, I'm afraid I must interrupt her sleep. Why don't you get some air?" Dumbledore suggested.

Harry shook his head, "I'd prefer to stay. If that's alright." He added the last hastily at the end, hoping not to sound disrespectful.

It seemed to work. The older man gave him a knowing look and gently woke Hermione.

She came around with what seemed to be tremendous effort. Either due to exhaustion or some potion Madam Pomfrey had given her, sleep had a deep hold. Finally, her eyes opened. Instinctually she sought out Harry's hand but kept her eyes on Dumbledore's.

"Ms. Granger, I have some memories to put back and with your permission I needed to alter another," he said pausing. "We can't let Lord Voldemort know how much Professor Snape is doing to assist me and this school. I need to change your memory of the rune removal so that you remember it was I that performed the spell."

"You need me to extract the memory?" she asked not excited to see those images again.

Dumbledore shook his head, "No, I can perform a quick memory charm for that modification. But it will be different. Instead of me being a simple spectator, I will experience your memory. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she said but wasn't sure why he would choose to this method.

The question, though unspoken, was understood. "It will be faster, I'm not sure we can afford the time for any other method. And it will spare you the pain of reliving the memory. I can change it without you seeing it again."

That was definitely a convincing argument for her, but she still had concerns. "You'll feel it. The pain?"

"I will, but it will be quick. You won't feel a thing," he assured her.

Relenting, she tried to push herself up into a sitting position, but found her arms were useless. Harry jumped up, position her up against the pillows, and watched Dumbledore pull out the new memories of the shrieking shack he had created. Placing the glowing tip of his wand against her temple, Hermione let out a small gasp of surprise. A cold chill ran down her spine and she saw meetings of the Order taking place in the building. It was an odd collection of genuine memories and new ones. It felt overwhelming processing the images. After she recovered she was suddenly glad she wouldn't have to do that for the final memory Dumbledore wanted changed.

"Ready?" Dumbledore asked, wand still out. When she affirmed he spoke, "_Immutatio Memoriae_." At first, it seemed like nothing had happened, but once he found the memory, he sat heavily on the edge of her bed. Sweat broke out on his brow, his face looked like he was suppressing a yawn until a yell of pain left his mouth. The process of changing the memory appeared to be faster than the making of the terrible experience but Hermione wondered if that wasn't just because it was so terrible it felt like it had lasted hours. After Dumbledore lowered his wand, he wiped his face with the sleeve of his robes and stood to pace.

"Professor, are you alright?" Hermione asked.

His pacing stopped and he turned to face her. "I will do everything in my power to make sure you never have to go through that again. I fear we won't be prepared to spare you if he tries tonight."

"I understand," she whispered and cleared her throat. "I'll make sure he sees the shrieking shack."

Dumbledore walked up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Not too easy? You're a brave girl, Hermione. The Order will know what you've done."

~~/~~

"Harry," Hermione said nudging him. She woke to find him bent over in his chair, his head resting on her arm. When he straightened and cleared his eyes of sleep he looked around. "You missed dinner. You should eat something." Her head motioned to a tray filled with food Ron had brought to her. To show her appreciation she had sampled a few items, but her stomach rebelled at the thought of more than a couple bites. Hermione blamed it on all the potions and antidotes she had been made to consume, but if she was being honest with herself, it was anxiety.

Sensing her mood Harry searched for something to do, something to say. He was at a loss. Usually their positions were reversed. Knowing he would never have the book knowledge she contributed to these stressful moments he decided his best course of action was to be supportive. "What do you need? Can I do anything?"

She gave him a small smile. "I'd really like to get out of this bed," she admitted.

Harry looked at her conspiratorially and stood up. "Then let's go for a walk."

Helping her stand was more work than she was expecting. Harry grabbed a pair of shoes from a pile of clothes Ginny brought down. Hermione found her balance with the help of a supporting arm wrapped around her waist. She slipped her feet into the trainers. The pair walked quietly to a side door and out into a small courtyard. A thin layer of snow covered the ground. He led her to a bench in the center of the courtyard and helped her sit.

"What's he like?" Harry asked, breaking the silence. The memories Professor Dumbledore had shared with Harry were starting to shed some light into Tom Riddle before he was the Dark Lord, but they were only glimpses from other people's recollections. If they had any hope of defeating him, they had to understand him. That was Dumbledore's opinion anyway.

Hermione looked down at her bandaged left arm. "He's cruel, but undisciplined. His spells have power, he's just not completely in control yet. I think he's testing how far he'll go."

Her words hung in the air. Harry wasn't sure what was more disturbing, a young Tom Riddle that was powerful, reckless, and not quit in control. Or a resurrected Lord Voldemort, cautious but arrogant and willing to bide his time until the right situation presented itself.

"I'm scared," her voice was so quiet Harry almost missed it.

Looking up at the stars, he rested his arm around her shoulders and brought Hermione into a side hug. He knew _this_ feeling and he knew what to say. "You can't worry about what might happen. I've never known anyone more disciplined, more prepared than you are. We'll find a way to stop this, but if we can't before he takes you again, you remember all the people that are going to fight to get you back. You remember you're smarter than him and you're a better student of magic than he will ever be."

Hermione turned her head into his shoulder, trying to hide her tears. Harry felt the slight shake of her small frame as she started to cry. Bringing his other arm around, he wrapped her in a comforting hug, resting his cheek on the crown of her head. He fought back his own tears. Before he could say anything, he caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Dumbledore made eye contact and Harry knew the brief moment of comfort was over. As Harry shifted, Hermione sensed the change and straightened wiping her eyes with her shirt sleeves.

"Ms. Granger, how are you feeling?" Dumbledore asked as he stepped into the moonlight.

"I'm okay," she started but caught his look of disbelief. "I'll be okay," she revised.

"You will," Dumbledore said confidently. "I hate to interrupt. I've sent word to the ministry and they're sending their best scholars on the subject of time travel. At the moment, however, we are no closer to understanding how Mr. Riddle has done this. If we assume it will happen again tonight, it would seem you will be returned to either the same place you've been taken from or to your bed. If it's the former, we should try to keep you in a place where we can stay vigilant."

Reluctantly she allowed Harry to guide her back to her hospital bed. Sitting heavily, she stared at the white bandage hiding the throbbing remnant from the hex. Glancing up she saw Harry and Dumbledore watching her. With a small sigh, she decided to speak up. "I don't want to just stay in bed and wait. I want to go—"

"—to the library." Harry finished her sentence with his friend. They all shared a smile.

"Tomorrow, Ms. Granger. I'll make sure Madam Pince has a selection of relevant books ready for you," Dumbledore said with some humor in his voice. "And of course classes will start in two days. But for tonight, try to get some sleep. I'll be right here if anything happens."

Harry watched with Dumbledore as Hermione relented and settled into bed. It didn't take long for her eyes to drift shut. Dumbledore motioned to Harry to follow him to the entry of the hospital wing so they wouldn't disturb her. "And how are you Mr. Potter?"

Surprised by the question, Harry took a moment. He wasn't the one under attack, but he knew she was in this situation in part because of him. "I'm angry. I feel helpless. I don't know how to protect her," it felt good to admit his thoughts.

The older man placed a supportive hand on Harry's shoulder. "You're helping her just being here, but may I suggest you go get some rest. She'll need your mind sharp tomorrow."

Before Harry could respond, they felt the electricity in the room. With dread, Harry looked at the bed where Hermione was resting. And then she was gone. "No," he said as fear set in.

~~/~~

Hermione felt something touch her bruised cheek. She moved to brush whatever it was away but found she couldn't lift her hand. Slowly her eyes opened, and found Tom Riddle staring at her, his face hovering inches away from hers. His fingers roamed up and down the bruise and cut his ring had inflicted the night before. She was again immobilized by magic, unable to move away from his touch but feeling every moment. Riddle's hand moved down to her arm, tracing over the bandage. "Did it hurt?" he asked, seemingly forgetting she couldn't respond. He tore his eyes away from the bandage covering the healing wound. "But where are my manners?" he asked, releasing her.

Not moving at first, she thought it was a trick.

"I've already searched you for a wand," he explained and focused his attention back to her arm. "Did it hurt, when it was removed?"

She wanted to ignore him, she knew he wanted her afraid. This was the game she had to play, so she spoke, hoping her voice didn't betray her. "Yes," she admitted flatly.

"I want to see it," he said pointing his wand toward her head.

At first Hermione thought he wanted to see the mark and she pulled her arm away. Then she understood, he wanted to witness the memory. "No," she said defiantly sitting up, swinging he legs over the side of the table. She didn't want to feel so vulnerable.

Before she could hop down, Tom was boxing her in. With his free hand, he grabbed the edge of the bandage and ripped it away. Taking her wrist, he pointed his wand at the red mark that remained. "Let me in or I put it back."

Struggling in his grasp she quickly realized this wasn't a fight she was going to win and she was desperate to avoid the removal of the hex again. She kept her head held high and met his gaze. "Fine."

Anticipation shone brightly on his face. "_Legilimens_," he cast and the pair watched the rune removal play out.

The pieces Hermione knew were changed wavered, but fortunately her glimpses of Dumbledore coincided with such pain her vision had wavered. She hoped he was too wrapped up in her pain to notice. Again and again it played as he made her relive it. "Please, stop," she finally said, starting to feel sick and was forced to leaned on him for support.

Abruptly the intrusion stopped and he took a step back. They were both breathing heavily. Hermione took the moment to take in the room. Hoping to see something that would help when she returned to her own time. Tom, for his part, hadn't noticed still reveling in the memory. She saw star maps pinned to a board full of notes and pieces of scroll. Some complicated math equations written in chalk. A table with a bubbling cauldron and small bottles filled with potions. Most were crystal clear and likely veritaserum. She was glad she had taken the antidote but needed to figure out how to play it if he tried to force the information out of her without occulmency. Suddenly a glass of water appeared on the table, Tom picked it up and drank. She wasn't sure how he had conjured it but didn't have time to guess when he turned his attention back to her.

Tom twisted a ring on his hand and he stepped toward her. "I've killed already you know," he said abruptly.

Unsure how to respond, Hermione stayed still, trying not to react. She of course knew from Harry that Tom had used the killing curse on his father and his family sometime in his fifth or sixth year.

"I don't plan on killing you," he continued leaning casually against the edge of the table a few feet away from her. "I'm more prepared tonight. I have you for six hours and you've got nowhere to run. So this will go easier if you stay cooperative."

The thought of spending six hours with him filled her with some dread. "Why are you doing this, how can I know or do anything that can help you?"

Picking up a familiar diary he waved it in her direction. "I know about you. That silly girl told me all about you and Potter and her brother. Granted I lost this resource in your second year, but it was enough for me to understand you're a special witch. I've figured out other ways to learn about your exploits. We both know you're the reason Potter has thwarted my future efforts." He was turning on some charm for reasons Hermione didn't understand.

"Harry is a great wizard," she said.

"He's got some talent and a lot of luck. But you," he said, moving closer. "You're best in your year aren't you? Maybe the whole school. Quick to learn new spells, relentless in your quest for knowledge. Wasting your skills playing by the rules. If you'd just open your mind to the possibilities, you could be unstoppable."

"Like you," she countered. "Use the dark arts."

"Yes," he said thinking he'd enticed her. "Dumbledore is holding you back. I know because he holds me back. I can teach you. Show you what's possible."

Silence hung in the room. Hermione leaned forward. "I've seen what the dark arts does to you. I know how it blinds you. It's your weakness. You could have been great. Professor Dumbledore gave you a chance even though he knew you were a sociopath."

The slap echoed off the stone walls. The force seemed to have some magic behind it as she was thrown to the ground. She heard a pop when her left shoulder collided with the stone. Pain radiated from the impact. Then, before she could recover, his booted foot lashed out, catching her right side sending her spinning over. "Get up!" he yelled.

She was slow to respond and was repaid with the _cruciatus curse_.

~~/~~

Ginny sat between Harry and Ron on a vacant hospital bed holding both their hands. All three stared at Hermione's empty bed. Willing her to return. McGonagall directed a floating tray to the trio filled with biscuits and hot chocolate. Ron and Harry took the cups but Ginny seemed reluctant to let go. "You three really should head to bed and get some rest. We don't know how long she'll be gone," she told them knowing it was futile. She picked up two of the three remaining cups, leaving the hover charm to keep the tray in front of the students. Walking across the space in four long strides she offered a cup to Dumbledore and started sipping her own. "I'm tempted to get something stronger," she admitted sitting down next to him.

"Any word from the ministry representatives?" he asked her.

Minerva nodded, "They're sending two members from the witan. They'll be in Hogsmeade within the hour. They're securing a Tempus Scriptum from their vaults to see if there are any major changes to the timeline and they're making a Tempus Semita to track any new changes that happen. I'll send a carriage as soon as they arrive."

"How did he manage this, Minerva?" he asked, whether it was exhaustion or concern, his voice betrayed his façade of confidence.

"Do we know he did manage it?" she asked looking at her headmaster. "You know as well as I do that this castle has secrets that grow like a geminio charm. There's ancient magic here no one completely understands. And in the hands of a wizard like Voldemort, willing to do anything for power and the upper hand..."

The truth of the words hung in the air. Dumbledore looked at the clock on the wall. Four hours. He had sent her in to the den of a monster with fake memories and veritaserum antidote and told her to resist his coercion as long as she physical and mentally could before feeding him a lie. Snape was right, it was a decision that seemed as ruthless as Voldemort himself. "Mad Eye is ready at the shrieking shack?"

"He's already there with Tonks and Remus. Arthur will be there by morning. He's still at the ministry, consulting with the department of mystery. We've been told all of the time turners were destroyed, but when have those lot been forthcoming about matters that important?" she said with a sharp edge.

"Will you talk to Firenze in the morning? He could provide some insight, but we both know the ministry Witan won't seek out centaur help, whoever they send."

~~/~~

Hermione rested her forehead against the cool stone of the table. It was only a minor relief to her suffering, but it was a welcomed reprieve to the heat her body was producing as it revolted. She had reached a strange precipice. Her resistance had certainly been believable and she was ready to let him see the memories, but now she needed to find a reason that would cause her to finally give in. Rolling onto her back, she looked for her tormentor. She took some solace that he looked as exhausted as she felt. His school robes were tossed carelessly on a chair, his sleeves rolled up, tie long gone, as he flipped madly through a book. In frustration, he flung it across the room.

Their eyes met. He picked up his wand and she tensed, ready for the final round. His hand clamped around her left wrist and pulled it toward him. "_Ior torris_," he hissed.

Her heart dropped. If he had warned her, she would have given up just based on the threat. "No," she said and looked into his crazed eyes.

He smiled, his wand still hovering over the fresh rune. "_Deiectionem_," he said, repeating the spell he had watched Dumbledore perform in Hermione's memory. The screams seemed to satisfy some inner need he had.

Watching the black tendrils follow his wand, she realized his intention was not to remove them, just to inflict the most pain he could. "Stop. Please, stop," she sobbed.

He pulled up with his wand, two of the tendrils snapped but several more retreated back into the rune. "_Deiectionem_," he said again, more tendrils gave way, but the remaining curse seemed to fray, embedding themselves deep into her arm.

When he was poised to repeat his actions again, she grabbed his wand hand with her free hand. "Stop it, I'll tell you. Please just stop."

Triumph was evident and Tom's demeanor changed from crazed frustration to victor. "Let me in. _Legilimens_."

~~/~~

Harry was the first to stand, sensing a change in the room. Then everyone sensed it, like static building. Hermione appeared in the bed, her knees pulled up into her chest, her left arm tucked in between, her eyes squeezed tight, her clothes soaked with sweat. Harry raced to her side, she flinched away but he continued to reach out to her. A hand resting gently on her head. "Hermione. You're back. You're safe," he said willing it all to be true. "Can you open your eyes?"

Madam Pomfrey moved in, but Dumbledore held her back. Hermione slowly relaxed, opening her eyes. Her vision swam but she focused on her friend. "Harry?" she asked, her throat was raw from screaming and from dehydration. "Help me."

Her plea broke him. "I'm here, we'll help you," he said looking up to Pomfrey. The older woman stepped forward and waved her wand. A chart next to the bed sprung forward and text started to fill the parchment. Every spell used against her, every injury they inflicted.

Minerva took the chart, preparing to assist. "Albus," she said handing him the chart and looking down at the broken girl in front of her.

Harry was sure he didn't want to know what the parchment said. Instead he kneeled down to eye level with her. All he could do was distract her and comfort her. Knowing the extent of her injuries would only feed his helplessness.

"I did it," she whispered. "Tell Professor Dumbledore."

"He's here, he's right here," Harry told her and shifted to let the headmaster into her field of view.

When she saw him, another thread of tension seemed to leave her. "I did it. He saw the Shrieking Shack, but not until the end. Not until he…"

"What did he do?" Dumbledore asked.

Instead of telling him, she pulled out her arm to show them the pulsing, broken rune.

"Ms. Granger, you're the bravest witch I know. You did great. We're going to give you something to take away your pain and help you sleep," he said, his hands shaking while he cradled her arm. "Will you share your memories? You may have seen things that will help us put an end to this."

Nodding, she let a copy of the memories free for his wand.

"Water," she said once the silver strands were safe in his crystal vial. Ron jumped to it behind Harry. Minerva helped Harry sit her up, handling her as gently as possible but couldn't help the pain the movement inflicted. Once propped up on a sea of pillows, Ron brought a full glass up to her lips.

"Just small sips, don't overdo it," Pomfrey said as she readied some potions.

Hermione's right hand came up and rested on Ron's arm. All of the hurt feelings of the term seemed petty and a lifetime ago. His eyes conveyed the same desperate wish to take back the hurt. The words would have to wait.

Dumbledore moved back into view. "Ms. Granger, Hermione," he started knowing his next actions would haunt him. He couldn't ask Snape to deal with the deformed rune but it couldn't be allowed linger. "I know this is going to be hard, but we need to address that mark. The longer it's there the harder it will be to remove and the more it will spread."

Hugging the wound closer to her chest and farther away from him. She knew the truth of his words but just wanted a break for the torment. "I know," she finally admitted. "I think he broke it on purpose. He was so angry, he wouldn't stop."

Knowing the spell would take its toll, Minerva moved to Hermione's bed. The maternal presence sparked tears in Hermione's eyes. Reacting, the older woman moved some pillows, so that she could sit behind her and gathered Hermione up in her arms. The simple, unexpected act seemed to release all the pent up emotion. The sobs were heart wrenching for all.

Dumbledore turned to the students behind him. "You should all head back to your rooms. Get some rest," he said and saw the protests form on all three of their faces. "This isn't a suggestion this time. We will take care of Ms. Granger. You don't need to see this, and she will likely be grateful that you didn't." When they didn't leave, he continued. "You can all come back after breakfast." When they finally turned as a unit, he nodded and steeled himself for the task ahead.

"Wait, Headmaster," Pomfrey said, halting his movement back toward the bed. "Her left shoulder is dislocated. Let me mend it first or it will just make this process unnecessarily worse." The healer looked at the girl curled into her head of house with pity. Luckily her left side was facing out and Pomfrey could see the unnatural position of her shoulder. She handed a potion for the pain to Minerva who helped Hermione drink it. "Ms. Granger, this shoulder should feel better right away. That potion will dull the worst of it." When the younger girl nodded her understanding, Pomfrey raised her wand. "_Conponentes_," she said knowing the spell would not only perform the shoulder reduction it would heal the damage to the muscles and tendons. As promised the relief was instant. Pomfrey hoped the lingering mending that would result from the complex spell help ease the pain of the next task.

On cue, Dumbledore sat on the side of the bed and gently took Hermione's left wrist. She didn't resist, but a small groan of protest escaped her mouth. Minerva comforted her, bracing for the spell and wrapping her hand around Hermione's head which was now resting on Minerva's chest. Dumbledore didn't want to prolong the process and started. The rune proved recalcitrant. In all it took an hour. Initially Hermione begged him to stop and at times seemed to confuse him with Tom. Now, as the last stubborn tendril refused to release its hold, she was eerily quiet. Silent tears ran down her cheeks, her eyes were focused on some distant spot, but when the last remnant of the rune broke free, her sob of relief was felt by all.

McGonagall rocked Hermione until he eyes drifted closed. "We need to contact her parents," she said to Dumbledore.

His haunted eyes met Minerva's. "I think that's a decision best left to Ms. Granger," he said.

"Albus, she's under age," she started but was cut off as he stood.

"Not after tonight," was all he said and moved to the exit.


	3. Decoherence

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews and the follows. Special thanks to **Harry Thomas Riddle** and** Only Harmony** for their feedback!

I've made up a ministry committee, the Witan. For this story, they're scholars of experimental magic and keepers of some special tomes. The Tempus Scriptum is a book that tracks changes to the past. This tracks all global changes but is limited to recorded history that has been changed. It's kept in the department of mysteries. The Tempus Semita is an abridged copy of the Scriptum that has been enchanted to follow only specific subjects.

I wrote this before I knew about the last avenger's plot… my time travel rules follow the many-worlds interpretation not the Copenhagen wave function collapse theory. Basically, branch point. When a change happens in the past, it creates a reality branch. Changes occur linearly though. I'll try to make it clearer in future chapters when the shit hits the fan.

**Chapter 3: Decoherence**

Harry was waiting for the headmaster at the entrance to his office. The pacing in front of the giant gargoyle stopped at Dumbledore's approach. "How is she? Is she okay?" he asked.

Dumbledore approached Harry, placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke to the gargoyle. "Whiplash licorice." Once the stairs appeared he looked down at his young student and motioned him to follow up the steps. "She will be. Professor McGonagall is staying with her for the moment. She was sleeping when I left."

Once inside the main office, Dumbledore went straight for the pensieve. "We don't have a lot of time, the Witan from the ministry should be here soon. It would be best if we had as many details as we can provide. Are you sure you want to see this, Harry?"

He looked from Dumbledore, to the floating disk, and up to the crystal bottle containing Hermione's memories from her latest encounter with Tom Riddle. "I want to help her and this is the only way I know how," he finally said.

And with that the pair descended into the memory.

~~/~~

Ginny and Ron walked in to the hospital wing to find their friend still gathered up into the comforting embrace of their head of house. Both appeared to be sleeping. The pair exchanged concerned glances and walked up to the bed. "Professor McGonagall," Ginny said, McGonagall startled awake. "Professor Flitwick asked that you meet him in your office. He said the Ministry representatives are here."

Minerva shifted, trying to extricate herself without waking Hermione. As she placed her hand on Hermione's forehead, she glanced quickly to Ron. "Go get Madam Pomfrey."

Ginny looked on in concern. Before she could ask what was wrong, the school matron was rushing passed.

"She's burning up," McGonagall said, now standing over Hermione, smoothing her hair back.

Pomfrey lifted the bandaged arm, concerned it was the mark. To everyone's surprise a powerful shield charm knocked the small group back. Hermione had not opened her eyes, and her wand was laying safely on the bed side table. The magic seemed to be some deep need to protect herself, resulting in wild magic.

Minerva tried several counter spells to no avail. Motioning to Ginny and Ron, "She needs to know she's safe. We need her to drop the shield charm herself," she explained.

Eager to help, Ginny stepped as close as she could. "Hermione? Hermione, can you hear me. You're safe, we're here," she said and continued to talk, encouraging Ron to join her.

Stepping aside, the two adults exchanged worried glances. "She has a very high fever. She must be reacting to mark," McGonagall said.

Nodding, Madam Pomfrey looked up. "I was afraid that might happen. We need to make sure there's no trace of the mark left to be sure. In all likelihood it's a magical infection from the wound left behind."

"I'll go get…" Minerva started, and finished, "Dumbledore." When the headmaster entered, Harry right behind looking ill.

"What's going on?" Harry asked moving to his friends gathered around Hermione's bed. The shield charm showing no sign of disappearing.

Madam Pomfrey filled Dumbledore in on her suspicions. He nodded his agreement. "Professor, I understand the Witan are waiting for you in your office? If you wouldn't mind greeting them and filling them in on what we know. I'll see what I can do here and will meet you all in my office in one hour." If Minerva wanted to protest, she hid it well. Offering a curt nod, she left the hospital wing.

Dumbledore watched the Gryffindors from a distance. Hoping the love and friendship would penetrate the shield. It was finally when Harry risked himself, forcing his hand through the magic, that it collapsed. Harry nearly lost his balance but recovered quickly as he lurched forward to her side.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice was still hoarse. She was curled in on herself, however, she seemed to relax as Ginny and Ron moved in around her. She was still confused, which could have been attributed to the fever.

Dumbledore approached with Madam Pomfrey and the students reluctantly made room, stepping back. "Ms. Granger, you're okay. You're suffering some lingering effects from the mark we think. We need to take a look at your wound to make sure there isn't some remnant of the dark magic." He reached for her arm and was again surprised when sparks leapt out at him.

For her part, Hermione was just as shocked. "I'm sorry professor, I don't understand what's happening to me."

"It's only natural, Hermione. You've suffered terribly and your body, your magic is protecting yourself. It's instinctual and you no doubt experienced something similar, albeit less powerful, before you knew you were a witch. Accidental magic. Now, it very much serves a purpose. It's important that you know you're safe, we only want to help you." He said, reach out one more time for her bandaged arm. When nothing happened, he carefully removed the white dressings to reveal a red and swollen forearm. Ginny gasped behind him and Madam Pomfrey let out a concerned sigh. After Dumbledore cast the revealing charm and no lingering mark presented itself, he let himself let out a sound of relief. "Ms. Granger, there is no more mark to remove." Her immediate concern lifted, every muscle relaxed and she seemed to focus once more. "You're having a reaction, much like an infection after a wound is exposed to bacteria. Madam Pomfrey will have you feeling better soon."

Hermione looked up and saw sadness in his eyes that wasn't there the last time they spoke. "You saw," she said, knowing he would understand. Looking to Harry, she knew he also experienced her memories.

"You were very brave," Dumbledore told her.

She wasn't looking for encouragement however. Her mind had been processing the entire encounter and she needed someone else to confirm her suspicions. "I think he's using the room of requirement," she said.

Dumbledore smiled, "I think so too. What else?" he asked pleased her mind was still just as sharp as it always was despite her condition.

Closing her eyes, she recalled with perfect clarity the parchment and pictures on the walls. "Somehow there's a celestial alignment. Stars and planets are in the same position then and now. He's tapped in to it…maybe the centaurs told him about it."

Nodding, Dumbledore looked over his shoulder to Harry. They had come to similar conclusions. "We consulted the star maps for the last two nights and the time Tom was a student here—"

"—his sixth year." She interrupted. "He had a prefect's badge, not head boy. And he said…he said he had murdered already. I think he meant his father and grandparents but maybe Moaning Myrtle too… he already had the diary so he must have already opened the Chamber of Secrets. "

"Yes, I agree. He opened the Chamber of secrets at the end of his fifth year. I was coming down here to let you know that based on what we saw and the star charts we looked at, he won't be able to take you again for at least four days. I think you're going back to January 1944, the middle of his sixth year. At least that's what we gathered. The calendar days aren't perfectly aligned, what does seem to matter are the celestial alignments."

A shudder escaped her as the relief washed over her. "That can't be all. There were equations, I didn't get a good look at them. I tried. And there must be some physical object that harnesses the power, that lets him control it."

"That's very good, Ms. Granger. I'm going to meet with the ministry Witan. I'm not sure how receptive they will be. If they have the open mind we need, would you entertain a meeting with them? To share your observations?" he of course could convey the information, but he knew a few of the witches and wizards that the ministry may have sent, and he knew they would be impressed with her knowledge and logic. She deserved the recognition. He also knew there were some that wouldn't deign to entertain the ideas of a student. Dumbledore would protect her if it came to that.

With some trepidation she agreed. She started to say something, then stopped herself.

"What is it?" Dumbledore asked sensing the hesitancy.

"You won't show them will you? The memories?"

"Never, without your permission, and then only the parts that they would need to see to stop this," he assured her. "Now, I need to meet with them and you need to get some rest. If you think of anything else, let Madam Pomfrey know and I will come straight away."

~~/~~

"Fiona, Gilford, I'm pleased to see you, though am sorry for the circumstance," Dumbledore greeted his old friends, Fiona Fielding and Gilford Gower. They had both been in Ravenclaw, but they were the same year as him and had grown closer in the intervening years. They were logical, open-minded, and knowledgeable. It was the best he could have hoped for from representatives of the Ministry of Magic.

Fiona, a tall, solidly built witch with unruly black curls and a round face stepped forward and offered a warm embrace. "The minister wanted to send Humphrey and Edsel until we consulted the Tempus Scriptum. The ripple of changes is subtle yet concerning in their meaning. Those two are many things but subtle is not any of them," she said with a wry smile.

"Tell me," Dumbledore instructed and moved to include McGonagall and Flitwick. He had Snape on an important errand and would fill him in. The four huddled around a large book that to an untrained eye would appear to be breathing. Those that worked with such tomes understood the movement was a result of changes in time. Shifting of events. Most changes were the result of new knowledge. These alterations were clearly marked in blue ink with intricate footnoting regarding the source, the moment of the change, and the previous understood accounts. Rare, but still present were red ink marks showing alterations to history due to manipulation of time. The Witan present were charged with monitoring the red footnotes and determine the severity of the change, recommending a course of action or inaction for those changes deemed riskier to repair in the grander scheme.

"For the most part, we've seen only minor changes, all affecting suspected deatheaters. No muggle history has changed," Gower continued flipping to a particularly red inked section. "The immediate purpose is clear, a consolidation of wealth and power. This is why so many accused during the trials were release… Lucius Malfoy, the Carrows, Yaxley, Crabbe, Macnair and Goyle. It seems all seven should have been found guilty and sentenced to Azkaban," he said pointed to each section.

"We recommend no action at this time," Fiona continued. "It seems they were all released after serving their sentences. All fallen out of favor with the ministry no doubt, but the major timeline is unchanged and no lives have been lost as a direct result that we can see. There is a rather curious change to Hermione Granger's past," she said flipping several pages. "It is quite odd and we don't really see how this change even matters."

Gower blushed slightly and cleared his throat, "It seems she was meant to start a romantic relationship with Ronald Weasley last year. Why teenage romance matters… it's a strange issue to expel resources on."

"I suspect the plan is for Ms. Granger and Mr. Potter to grow closer. Whatever Voldemort's ultimate goal is; I believe it will involve using Ms. Granger to distract or get to Harry."

"Well, fortunately teenage angst is so malleable," Fiona said, clearly naïve to the complexity. "We can set that straight right away."

"Once you've untangled adolescent emotions, time travel should be a breeze," McGonagall said dryly.

"Nevertheless, it may be best to not meddle with that particular issue for the time being. If we can put a stop to Tom Riddle's interactions with Ms. Granger, he won't have the ability to manipulate Mr. Potter through her," Dumbledore reasoned and moved away from the book. "You've enchanted a Semita to help us track the changes?"

"Yes, it will be easier to isolate only the changes that occur along Lord Voldemort's timeline and originating from regions he was known to reside. We'll of course keep an eye on all alterations, but a focused record will alert us," Gower said, closing the tome. "Now, Professor McGonagall has started to fill us in. She seemed to think you may have more to add."

"Actually, Ms. Granger has done an impressive job working out the details. Should we see if she's up for visitors?" Dumbledore asked. "She's been through a lot and is having a bad reaction to a hex. Despite this, she's a fighter and I think you'll find her to be an asset."

"Lead the way," Fiona said.

~~/~~

Hermione was sitting in a wheel chair in the courtyard outside the hospital wing, a large book in her lap. She needed time alone and had convinced her friends to smuggle her some books before leaving to take care of themselves. The fever hadn't broken yet. Her arm itched and burned. Small aches and pains made themselves known if she sat too long in one position, while others screamed at her if she moved too quickly. It was exhausting and frustrating but she was relieved to know there was at least a four-day reprieve from the next encounter. From the shadows, the shuffling of feet announced the return of visitors and the end of her solitude. Looking up, she saw McGonagall leading a small group toward her. "Fiona Fielding," Hermione said, holding up a book authored by the witch in front of her.

"You see that Gilford. The girl has great taste in books," Fiona said stepping forward to return the greeting. "I understand you have some theories about what's happened to you?"

Hermione nodded and shared what she saw. Explained why she thought Tom Riddle was using the room of requirement and celestial alignments. Flipping through the book on her lap, she finally had another piece of the puzzle. "And I think he's using a thread of life to harness everything. I don't know how he got his hands on something so rare," she finished.

Fiona and Gilford were beaming at her. Her theories were sound and her observations supported them. "You've got a talent for this Ms. Granger. Perhaps you'll have a career with the Witan when you're done at Hogwarts. We haven't had someone outside of Ravenclaw join our ranks in decades, but you've got the chops," Gilford said. "I suspect you know this already; the core of every time turner is a thread of life."

Hermione was of course very familiar with time turners and had studied how they worked in her third year when she was given permission to use one. Because of this, she knew all turners were and had always been under the control of the Witan. That one could simply go missing and remain unnoticed was hard to imagine. "Yes, but surely you would know if—"

"One was missing in Tom Riddle's lifetime?" Fiona finished. "There was a time turner that stopped working. Upon closer inspection, it was discovered its core was missing. This happened more than 100 years ago, when time turners were moving from experimental magic to a useable device. The mystery of where that thread ended up has remained to this day. The event hasn't even been recorded in any of our Tempus Scriptums. This led some to suggest the thread simply wore out, some thought it was taken but was useless without the enchantments of the turner itself. I think we know now where it ultimately ended up."

"It's not possible to get a thread from somewhere else?" Hermione asked, not wanting to jump to conclusions until all possibilities were considered.

Fiona shook her head. "The three witches that would be known as the three fates of mythology used their magic to weave their threads of life. They used it very much like we use wands today. Finding powerful cores from magical creatures, they focused and controlled their magic through the threads. Much like wands, the materials were rare, the magic difficult, and the craft was not something just any witch or wizard can do. In fact, much of wand theory is grounded in what we understand about these threads. As you can imagine, through the years, the availability of the threads became rarer and rarer. The ministry set out more than 200 years ago to collect and preserve all remaining threads. It is possible some remain uncollected, but unlikely. The reward for finding a thread would have far outweighed the benefit of keeping such history because by that time, every thread of life had lost its power. The ownership of one was purely sentimental. It wasn't until the Witan became keepers of all of the thread that we discovered methods to harness the magic within again. And even then, some extraordinary magic was required."

"If Tom Riddle had come to possess a thread of life missed by the ministry, it would have been fragile and useless," Gilford continued. "What we know of the boy at that time wouldn't suggest he or anyone he knew would have had the discipline to heal a thread sufficiently for this feat. And if one went missing, well we'd know about it from the Scriptum."

"The missing time turner core didn't show up in the scriptum," Hermione protested.

"Well, the only way that is possible is if a Witan themselves took the core and never used it," Fiona said. "For a Witan to have possession of a thread was not out of the ordinary. No. The only way for us to know who stole it was if they used it and changed time."

The air in the room moved from scholarly discussion to discomfort. Fiona had to ask the next question, and Hermione knew it was coming. The older witch cleared her throat, "We understand you shared your memories with your headmaster and that they contained some very detailed observations of the materials Tom Riddle might be using?"

Hermione's eyes flicked to McGonagall, then to Dumbledore, and finally down to her bandaged arm. Knowing other people would see her torment made her feel like a victim all over again, still she wanted it all to end. She was already beginning to trust Fiona and Gilford. She had confidence their only purpose for witnessing the memories was to gain knowledge. "I got a better look last time, but may have seen something the first night too. I can't be sure. You should look at both," Hermione finally said.

"Excellent," Fiona said encouragingly. "Get some rest while we take a look. If you're up for it when we're done you can join us in the library? I have missed that restricted section."

Unable to help herself, Hermione smiled for perhaps the first time since her ordeal started.

~~/~~

Hermione knew it could take hours before the Witan were done viewing her memories, and that was if they watched them only once. Madam Pomfrey seemed to be giving her some space and Dumbledore and McGonagall were nowhere in sight. She had an idea, and this was her opportunity to test it without intervention. Standing from the wheelchair, her legs shook slightly, then soon steadied. She was still in pajamas. That couldn't be helped, she decided. Going up to Gryffindor tower meant running into friends and classmates that would want to speak with her. And if she was being honest, she most wanted to avoid Harry and Ron. They had been really great to her, but they were treating her like she was fragile. It was exhausting.

Moving quickly, she headed toward her destination. Utilizing shortcuts that were by now familiar to her after all the late night exploits. Taking the tunnels and side corridors without Ron or Harry did seem a bit like cheating on them. She would share her adventure with them if it proved useful. Finally, stepping out from behind the tapestry on the seventh floor she came up short. It was too late to turn back. Dumbledore had already spotted her. "Professor Dumbledore, I was just..."

"…trying to get into the room of requirement?" he said, finishing her sentence before she had time to tell a lie they both knew would be feeble. "It seems, Ms. Granger, we've had the same hunch. I am not able to get it to open. Perhaps you have a greater need?" He asked stepping aside.

She padded up to the wall, barefooted and wishing she thought to get some shoes. Pulling her wand out, she at least had had the presence of mind to keep that close, Hermione closed her eyes and cleared her mind. She did have a desperate need. To see the room Tom Riddle had used to pull her through time. When she opened her eyes, a strange door presented itself. It wasn't the normal door they had used during their illicit meetings of the DA. This door looked ancient and dark. It wasn't a welcoming threshold. She reached out, seized hold of the knob, and pushed. And then she walked in to her nightmare. Though it was dust covered and appeared to have been abandoned for years, not just the few hours that had past for her.

Dumbledore came up behind her, "Wouldn't it be nice to have a pair of slippers?" he asked and they both watched blue, plush slippers materialize in front of Hermione.

Gratefully, she stepped into them and moved to the far wall, which contained the bulk of the notes and texts. The ink had faded with time and the chalk was a faint shadow on the slate. The cauldron on the bench was dry and had been home to spiders for some time.

Letting Dumbledore look over the writings, Hermione moved to the table. She wasn't sure if she saw stains from her blood or if she was just imaging things. Rope dangled from the corners. "Do you think it's connected in both directions?" she asked.

When she turned her head, she saw Dumbledore was watching her with some sadness in his eyes. "One way to find out," he told her.

Understanding dawned on her and she looked back at the table. "I spent most of the time looking up," she said simply yet the meaning behind that was not missed. She angled her head to look at the ceiling directly above the table and pointed her wand. She whispered, "_Algiz_."

To anyone not paying attention, the rune would look like cracks in the ceiling, but they both knew what the y-shaped mark meant. Dumbledore smiled, "Fear has its place in every heart. Courage is only a response," he quoted.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione looked around the room. Trying to see things that hadn't caught her eye before. An ornate divider stood on the other side of the table. She walked behind it. Instantly she wished she hadn't. Her gasp of surprise brought Dumbledore to her side quickly. They both stared at the wall filled with whips and chains and sharp implements. It really was a torture chamber and Hermione was beginning to understand her torment was just beginning, if Tom had his way. "Professor…I can't…"

He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "If we can't stop Tom before the next alignment occurs, you will be moved to Hogsmeade," he said, a chill running through him. "Come, let's gather up these parchments and see if we can restore them back in my office."

Hermione didn't protest. She was ready to leave the room and its dark secrets behind. She stepped out into the hallway letting her headmaster gather the materials he decided were of interest. "I'd like to go back to my room and change my cloths," she said once he rejoined her in the corridor.

The door closed behind them and disappeared. "Come up when you're ready. I'll let Madam Pomfrey know you're under my care for the afternoon," he said good naturedly.

Watching him disappear around a corner, Hermione took a moment to compose herself and then headed toward the Gryffindor tower in a haze. Her mind was reeling with information and horrific visions of what could be to come. He said he didn't plan to kill her, but after seeing his torture devices she was certain there could be a fate worse than death. Even then, he didn't plan to kill her didn't mean he wouldn't accidently kill her. Surprised, she stood in front of the fat lady. She didn't remember most of the journey. The fat lady looked expectantly, unusually cooperative. "Gilly weed," she said and the portrait swung forward. She had no idea what time it was and was surprise to see the common room was empty. Hurrying forward, she moved to the girl's dormitory but was stopped by a voice from behind her.

"Hey you," Harry said. He was himself just coming out from the boy's side, his hand was resting on the side of his neck, trying to work out the knots in his muscles. "I was just coming to check on you."

"I wanted to take a shower and change my clothes," she said, motioning to her ripped shirt and stained pajama bottoms.

"It's lunch time. Everyone else headed down already. I was just taking a shower myself. Do you want to join us? Or I can get you something and bring it up?" he offered.

"No, thanks. I'm really not sure I can eat anything just yet. Really, you go down. I'm only going to be up here for a few minutes and then I'm going to meet with Professor Dumbledore…" she trailed off realizing she would need to explain everything. "A lot has happened this morning. If you wait for me, we can go to Dumbledore's together and I'll fill you in on the way?" Hermione really did need to confide in someone about what she saw. She trusted Harry to support her without being overly protective.

"Okay," he said with some relief. "I'll wait here."

~~/~~

By the time the pair was approaching the spiral stairs behind the giant gargoyle, Harry knew about the room, the thread of life, and the mysterious time turner that lost its core. They were just starting to speculate how Tom Riddle could have come to possess a thread when Hermione had to stop talking. She was still feverish and weak. Taking the stairs required all of her energy. Harry resisted the urge to support her, knowing it would be unwelcomed. Instead, he elected to follow one step behind in case she needed him. At the top of the stairs, she was breathing like she had run a race. Now, Harry rushed ahead to open the office door for her. "Professor Dumbledore," Harry announced their presence, hoping he hadn't overstepped by opening the door without permission.

"Harry?" the older man said turning. Seeing the two students he quickly slid a chair toward Hermione with his wand. "Come in, have a seat. I've restored the text on these old parchments." He spoke as if the situation was entirely normal; however, Harry watched the flick of his wand followed by his consultation of a file that looked suspiciously like a medical chart. "_Rennervate_," a flash of red light followed the spell and Dumbledore summoned a tray forward, offering Hermione a silver cup and Harry a small clear glass. He appeared to have been prepared for not just Hermione, but Harry too. He smiled knowingly at Harry and addressed Hermione, "Better?"

She took a steady breath and nodded. Feeling a strange heat flash up when Harry laid a supportive hand between her shoulder blades. Suspecting the heat wasn't due to the fever, she stamped down her emotions and focused her attention on the headmaster. "Have you learned anything new?" she asked hopefully.

"I have," he said, lifting his notes from across the room with a hover charm. It moved swiftly and came to rest in front of Harry and Hermione. "It appears Tom Riddle is taking you back to January 1944. It's the middle of his sixth year. He has identified 50 key dates over the span of 18 months that are potential branch points, as he calls them in his writing. Of those 50, he has further identified 20 that were most desirable to him. It seems he favors the weekends, desiring to continue his model student charade. He went on to identify future dates for him; however, as we know these would require him to be in the room of requirement. Which sheds more light into his intentions when he came to ask me for a job in 1967."

"How does this help us?" Harry asked, frustrated clear.

"Harry," Hermione intervened. "Knowing when Riddle might act helps us concentrate our energy."

"To do what? What protections can we use that aren't already in place around the school?"

"Mr. Potter, you are correct, these protections are around the school. However, the threat comes from within. We will place protections around Ms. Granger specifically, and we'll see what we can do to block off the room of requirement entirely." Dumbledore said. Harry relaxed with this information. "Perhaps the easiest protection we can offer is to move Ms. Granger to the Hogshead Friday afternoon."

With the plan in place, the dread Hermione felt eased up. "I'd like to go to class tomorrow," she said standing.

"Of course. But go see Madam Pomfrey. Make sure she approves. I imagine Ms. Fielding and Mr. Gower will find you if they have questions," his final words were punctuated with a knowing look at the pensieve.

~~/~~

With Hermione safely settled in her bed in the hospital wing, Harry went straight to his room to grab his invisibility cloak. She may have wanted to start classes in the morning, but Harry had one driving thought. Get to the Shrieking Shack. Dumbledore himself had no working plan to protect Hermione from being taken again. Even the Witan from the ministry had not offered a sound defense they could implement. There were four days of reprieve from this impossible threat, but they knew what the Deatheaters would be planning in their time. They knew where the Deatheaters would turn up. Harry planned to be there when they did.

"Harry?" Ron asked from his bed. "You're going to the whomping willow, aren't you?"

Holding the invisibility cloak in one hand, and his wand in the other, Harry nodded. "I can't sit around and do nothing," he told his friend.

Ron jumped from the bed and grabbed his own wand. "I'm going with you."

The pair slipped through the halls of the castle under the cloak with practiced skill. When they stood just out of reach of the aggressive tree, Harry aimed his wand at the knot on the trunk and send a stunning spell at it. Ron watched from safety as Harry took a step into the battered circle that marked the tree's deadly blows. When nothing happened, the boys jumped through the tunnel entrance.

"Maybe we should have told someone we were coming?" Ron said as they got closer. "I mean… we're walking straight into an ambush, aren't we?"

Harry considered the unusually astute observation. He had read a letter Mad Eye had sent to every Order member that recommended the use of patronus charms to send urgent messages. He hadn't tried it himself, this seemed like the time for an urgent message. Pointing his wand toward the end of the tunnel a large, silver stag erupted from the end and sprinted toward the exit.

Ron exchanged a nervous glance with his friend. "Maybe we'll just get expelled and not dead now."

"Harry?" Tonks called out.

"Yeah! It's me. I'm with Ron," he said as they cautiously moved forward.

Meeting her at the hidden entrance she looked on with a mixture of annoyance and acceptance. "You two should not have come," she scolded and then rushed them into the small room.

"Well, if I said I was surprised I'd be lying," Moody said from behind them.

Harry turned to see Moody and Lupin looking at them with disapproval. "Really Harry, Ron. We could be attacked any minute," Lupin said.

"Good, we want to fight back," Harry said with more confidence than he felt. "There's nothing to be done at Hogwarts."

"How's Hermione?" Lupin asked, knowing an argument was futile.

"She's still fighting the infection, but was in better spirits after we figured out Voldemort can't take her again until the end of the week. She was sleeping when we left."

"And you thought you would come here and get a piece of the action, did you?" Moody said gruffly, despite this tone, Harry thought he heard some pride in his voice.

"Beats sitting around and waiting to do nothing," Ron admitted.

"Well, we can escort you back and be one person short or let you stay," Mad Eye considered aloud. "You listen to everything we tell you to do, and if you're told to get back into that tunnel, you do it. You hear?"

They nodded.

"Which one of you wants to tell Arthur you're here?" Moody continued as he moved to his lookout position near a boarded up window.

"Harry. Harry does," Ron supplied quickly. "Unless my mum's here too… then I'll take my chances with my dad."

"Through there and up the stairs to the tower," Mad instructed.

Harry turned toward the shoddy stairs. In truth, he was happy to see Mr. Weasley. He had never treated Harry like a child in the past and was always quick to tell him the whole story when other adults tried to protect him. At the top of the tower, the floor creaked and moaned.

"Remus?" Arthur called out from the dark. "Harry!"

"Mr. Weasley. We wanted to help," he started.

"We? Hermione didn't come with you?" Arthur said stepping into the lantern light, trying to peer around him.

"No. No, she's in the hospital wing. Ron came with me."

"Well, let's not tell Molly, then," he said with a nod. "Have a seat." Harry repositioned a crate to sit next to the older man. "You two really can't stay long, but I understand why you came. If Tom Riddle has the ability to change the past, everything we know is at risk."

"Do the Deatheaters know about this?" Harry asked peering through a large crack in the wall. The cold January wind whipped around the opening, never penetrating the gaps in the walls. The protections in place appeared to offer physical barriers to the environment.

"Yes. Our intel indicates the false headquarters were revealed to Lucius this morning."

"Why wouldn't Voldemort give them that information further back in the past?" Harry wondered, ignoring Arthur's protest over the use of the name.

"We don't know how the information was received or who passed it to him. Dumbledore has someone working on that," the older man explained. He didn't use Snape's name, but Harry assumed this is why he hadn't seen the potion's master since he removed the curse from Hermione's arm. "We have to be—" He stopped talking. Harry saw the trail of black smoke. "—ready. Harry, tell the others. I see three approaching from the north."

Harry bounded down the stairs. Four pairs of eyes were on him. "They're here," he said.


	4. Causality

**Chapter 4:** **Causality **

"The shield is coming down," Lupin warned.

"It's about time," Moody said impatiently. "Been waiting an hour for them to get through. It wasn't even my best work."

"Harry, Ron, take cover by the tunnel," Tonks instructed. "You can help, but if this goes wrong, you get back to the school."

Harry moved closer to the tunnel. "If what goes wrong?"

"We need to stun one and chase the rest away," she explained and then waved her wand. The dilapidated room suddenly became a proper headquarters. The illusion was complete with maps, files, potion bottles, and spare wands. Further questions were stopped by a loud crash. "Get to cover and point your wand toward the door. There's only one way in, Moody made sure of that."

Harry positioned himself with the best opening possible. He had a feeling this was going to go down fast and he wanted to get some shots in. The silence amplified his anxiety. Looking back at Ron, they were both ready.

There was a pop and room descended in darkness. "_Lumos_," he said but there was no light. For a second he thought his wand failed him until he realized the darkness was absorbing the light. He heard grunts from a physical scuffle.

Then Lupin's voice, "_Sorbere_." The darkness seemed to contract in on some point, like a plug had been pulled.

Harry watched as the black cloud was sucked into Lupin's wand. Everyone adjusted to the sudden light. Tonks and Arthur each had a Death Eater in their sites. Moody was standing over another. Harry saw movement in the entryway, there were at least two more Death Eaters waiting to move in. He sent a stunning spell and everyone engaged. Moody dispatched with the Death Eater under his feet with an efficient binding curse and moved to the next.

"Impedimenta," Harry said, knocking a Death Eater back that was closing on Arthur from his flank.

Mr. Weasley hexed the attacker in front him, and turned to send nod of thanks to Harry. The celebration was short lived, two more Death Eaters entered the room. Harry evaded a curse aimed at him. It hit the wall over his head. He saw the deteriorating wall behind the illusion. They needed to drive out the Death Eaters before the magic collapsed and they discovered out the Shrieking Shake was a red herring. With renewed determination, Harry joined Tonks sending several jinxes at the door. The masked figures backed up.

When the last of the upright Death Eaters were on the other side of the door frame, Remus erected a brick wall in the opening and reinforced it with a magic shield.

Everyone was out of breath. They all looked at the person on the ground bucking against the ropes that held him. Moody stunned him unconscious. "Change his memory, quickly," he instructed and picked up a small hand radio from a shelf full of them.

"What's he doing?" Ron asked his dad.

"They're planting a memory. While he lies here, he'' remember hearing Moody talking to Dumbledore through the radio and learning it could be used to hear what's going on in the homes of every Order of the Phoenix. He'll remember breaking several of them to conceal the loss of one and will take the radio with the plan to take it back to you know who," he explained.

"In reality?" Harry started.

"In reality it's '_bugged'_," Mr. Weasley said using air quotes. "That's what the muggles call it. We'll be able to hear what's going on wherever it ends up while they'll hear the mundane routines of the Order at their homes on every channel. With luck, they'll try to get information out of it long enough for our side to get our own intelligence about their plans or even how Tom Riddle was able to take Hermione."

"And they won't know it's bugged because that's what the device was designed for, so even if they search it for concealed charms it won't raise suspicions," Harry finished.

Then Arthur turned to the two boys, "Even if this is unsuccessful in getting us information, tonight was still a success. We've defended this place like it was our headquarters. The Death Eaters have seen a sophisticated operations room. Grimmauld Place is safe, and Tom Riddle will have no reason to believe Hermione deceived him."

"Everyone, get to their places," Moody commanded. Tonks collapsed dramatically to the ground and then transformed her face to appear gravely injured. Lupin adjusted the illusion around the fake radios to appear as is several were thoroughly smashed. "Boys, get back into the tunnel and out of sight."

Harry and Ron complied while still keeping the action in their field of view. Moody released the Death Eater and flicked his wand at the brick wall. Soon, the masonry started to crumble, Moody, Lupin, and Arthur backed away. The Death Eater, still disoriented, shook his head and looked at his hand. Moving quickly, he rejoined his friends. "Let's get out of here!"

If anyone protested it wasn't audible. Several popping noises announced their disapparition.

"You boys get back to the castle. We need to get protections in place again here to make it look like we're assessing the damage. We'll forget to mention your contributions here to Minerva," Moody told them and pointed to the tunnel.

Once they were back in their room they were too wound up to sleep. They spent the rest of the night speculating about the information the Order would get from the radio. It was hard not to feel hopeful. There were a full four days for something to happen, some intel to be collected that would protect Hermione from Tom Riddle. When the sun rose, they were mentally exhausted and not at all ready to restart classes. Harry suggested they go get Hermione for breakfast but Ron was forced to decline having promised Lavender he'd have breakfast with her.

Over breakfast Harry told Hermione and Ginny about the Shrieking Shack in hushed whispers. Now they had to find a way to get updates from the Order. Owls were out of the question. The excitement was put on hold for the normalcy of coursework and academic schedules. Harry tried to keep Hermione's mind off the threat of Friday. Ron would join them at their table for classes; however, his relationship with Lavender continued and it was still awkward. As the week progressed, they were no closer to figuring out what was happening at Grimmauld Place.

Finally, when the 6th years were leaving transfigurations Minerva asked Hermione, Harry and Ron to hang back. "Hermione, you should know the Death Eaters attacked the Shrieking Shack," she said and when the trio weren't sufficiently shocked by the revelation her eyes narrowed.

"Is everyone alright… from the Order?" Harry asked lamely. "When the Death Eaters came."

"From what I understand from Mad Eye the operation was a success, and he wanted to make sure you knew how valuable your efforts were Hermione," she softened. "He also wanted you to know their defense was very convincing. There should be no further risk to the headquarters."

Hermione of course knew this information, but hearing the confirmation was a relief. Part of her wondered what else Tom Riddle could possibly want from her. "Is there any new information? How Tom's communicating with them?"

"No. I'm sure it's a matter of time now. Don't overdo it, you look pale," she said maternally, cupping Hermione's chin to get a better look.

"I am a little tired," she admitted. "I promised Madam Pomfrey I would return to the hospital wing after classes."

With a nod of approval, Minerva gathered her books and left the classroom.

The rest of week didn't offer any additional information, but they hadn't had many opportunities to find out how Moody's plan was playing out. Friday rolled around, the low level tension skyrocketed.

Everyone was leaving the dining hall after dinner when Hermione came up short. Waiting by the exit was Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Fiona. Harry stopped with Hermione to find out what they wanted, even though they both already knew.

"I'm sorry Hermione," Fiona started. "We don't have a definitive solution yet and want to take you to Hogsmeade. There's a room for you at the Hogshead Inn."

"How long will I need to stay there?"

"I think for the entirety of the weekend to be safe," Dumbledore told her. "If you could go gather some things and meet us back here, Professor McGonagall will take you there."

Hermione's eyes shifted to Harry's and back to the headmaster. She wanted to be selfish and ask her friend to come with her. He had Quidditch practice, she reminded herself. That and she didn't know how it would go over asking if a boy could join her for a weekend at the Hogshead. Even if he wasn't a boyfriend and the only reason she wanted him close was to feel safe. Shaking her head to rid herself of the idea, she took a breath. "I'll just grab some things and my books," she finally said and headed out, Harry and Ginny on her heels.

Harry glanced back. He had questions, but sensed his friend needed him more. Glancing over his shoulder he decided he would find Dumbledore after he saw her off. He turned back around and was surprised by how much distance she had put between them. Exchanging a look with Ginny, the pair jogged forward. "Hermione," Harry said, trying to catch her attention. She didn't slow down. She didn't turn. He finally caught up to her and took her arm, turning her to face him and causing her to stop in her tracks. "Hermione. It's just the weekend. You'll be back on Monday."

"And what about the next alignment? I'm just supposed to run away," she said, tears welling up in her eyes, refusing to let them fall.

"Until we can figure out how to stop it, yes. You'll go to the Hogshead," he said, not intending for his words to sound like an order. Truth be told, he was just as scared as she was.

"Harry," Ginny warned. She knew this wasn't the time to tell Hermione what to do. She was already in a position outside of her control, this was just another injury to her independence. The redhead came between the two and kept them moving toward the stairs. "They'll figure out how to stop this, but it's going to take time. They just want to keep you from getting hurt this weekend."

Wiping at her eyes, Hermione nodded. She understood and had no desire to find out what Tom Riddle had planned for her tonight. "It's just so frustrating," she said stepping up to the painting of the fat lady who swung away after Harry provided the password. "How can we know so much about how he's doing this and not have a way to stop him?"

They all stopped at the foot of the stairs leading up to the girls' dormitory. Harry didn't have a good answer. This feeling of helplessness wasn't new. Somehow they would find a solution, they always did… together. Ron was already removed from their discussions and now Hermione was going to be hidden away while he took the weekend to play Quidditch. It seemed all three were at a loss for their current situation as the silence fell on them all.

"I need to pack," Hermione said, her voice a whisper and headed up the stairs.

~~/~~

(Jan 10, 1997 - Jan 14, 1944)

Hermione sat at the desk in her room at the Hogshead. McGonagall was across the way, reading by the fire. Flipping through some school notes, Hermione glanced at a conjured star map she had created as soon as she sat down. It tracked the planets and moons she was interested in. Watching as Earth's moon creeped closer to the alignment Riddle needed to cast his spells she felt fear creeping in. Pushing away from the desk she figured studying was a losing battle. She looked down at her arm and studied the scar. He pushed her so far to get the information about the Order of the Phoenix, was it all really just to attached the headquarters. "Professor," she said getting the older woman's attention.

"Ms. Granger?" she said standing and moving to Hermione and saw her sleeve pushed up, exposing the angry red mark. "Is your arm alright?"

"Has anything happened from the attack on the shrieking shack?" Hermione pressed, ignoring the question.

"I'm not sure we should be having this conversation," Minerva started and then saw the look in her eyes and finally relented. "Not yet."

"Why do you think that is?"

Taken aback, Minerva paused to think, "According to Lupin, the Death Eaters haven't seen or heard from Voldemort for weeks. The radio is still active and being monitored."

"If Voldemort hasn't been in contact with them, how did they know they should attack the Shrieking Shack? Maybe he's using the room to pass along the information," Hermione finished.

"That has very serious implications," she said in full professor mode. "That would imply someone on school grounds with access to the room of requirement would be the intended recipient."

"I know," Hermione said in an aside. She wasn't bothered by McGonagall's skepticism. It was the logical conclusion and she couldn't be bothered by the implications. "If he's not communicating with them here, then he's found a way to communicate from the past. He could just write it down in a book. Hermione thought that unlikely after losing his diary, he might be afraid it could fall in the wrong hands." Even as she spoke, she watched the star map hovering six inches off the desk glow as each of the celestial components reached their optimal location. Tensing, Hermione waited to be pulled through time. McGonagall's hand rested on her shoulder, keeping her grounded. When nothing happened, they both let out the breath they were holding. Looking up, Hermione couldn't help but smile in relief.

"I think it would be best if you try to get some sleep, Ms. Granger. We'll discuss this with Professor Dumbledore in the morning," Minerva told her, cocking her head toward the small bedroom.

Relenting, Hermione moved to the bed and was sleeping before her head hit the pillow.

~~/~~

Hushed voices speaking with a cadence of urgency woke her up. Hermione wasn't sure how long she had been sleeping. She guessed it hadn't been long. Whoever was in the other room were clearly trying have their discussion without waking her. So she stayed motionless and listened. Her experience told her eavesdropping was likely the only way she would get all the information, the details without a filter from adults trying to protect her.

"…back twenty minutes ago. She's in the hospital wing now," Fiona said. "She said we have an hour to bring Hermione back or he'll take her again and she won't come back."

Hermione felt sick. When Tom Riddle couldn't get her, he took someone else. And now he was threatening to kill her if she didn't come back. If she didn't permit him to take her. Sliding out of bed, she stood in the doorway unnoticed. Dumbledore, Fiona, and Minerva, and Snape all stood in a circle in the middle of the room.

"We know what's in that room, how can we possibly ask her to submit herself to that," Minerva said, clearly disturbed by the turn of events.

"I'll go," she said, ending the debate. All four adults turned in her direction. "He doesn't want to kill me."

Minerva took a step forward. "We don't know he'll follow through on his threat."

"We don't know that he won't, either," Hermione countered. "He's already killed. We have to go now, I won't be responsible for another student dying because I was afraid." It was clear to everyone that the debate was over. It was never their decision. She moved to gather her things. "Who did he take?" she asked stuffing a roll of parchment into her school bag.

"Ginny Weasley," Dumbledore told her, and she stopped mid motion for a beat. The fact that she was willing to sacrifice for an unknown student was not lost on them. Minerva stood a little straighter with pride.

When Hermione's books were packed she turned, with steely resolve. "Let's go," her voice wavered. Her mind was clearly made up. When no further discussion was needed, they moved quickly out of the Hogshead and into the waiting Thestral-pulled carriage. "Professor…" Hermione started. Snape, McGonagall, and Dumbledore all turned. She had walked here with McGonagall; this was the first time she was in a position to see a Thestral since returning from the holidays. She couldn't see them then. She could now.

"Ms. Granger?" Dumbledore said, stepping toward her. He followed her gaze to the creatures he too could see. The understanding sent a small shock through him. "You can see them?" he asked, she nodded. "And you couldn't before?"

She shook her head. "I haven't seen death."

The headmaster met her where she stood and gently guided her to the carriage. The truth he was about to share had him rattled. Once everyone was settled, he spared a glance at Severus. "If I had to guess, your ordeal, either with Mr. Riddle or during the hex removal, you, yourself came close to death. Perhaps not in danger of dying, but experiencing the pain associated with death."

Hermione looked down at her forearm. The pain had certainly been excruciating. She thought back to the hallucinations she saw. Dark figures floating in her periphery. Had they been just figments of her mind or something darker? Dumbledore seemed to sense her revelation and remained quiet. They all remained in their own personal thoughts as they pulled through the school gate. Butterflies in Hermione's stomached caused her to feel sick and alert simultaneously. She didn't know exactly how long she would have before Riddle tried for her again but she was anxious to see Ginny… and Harry. She needed to know they were both safe before she faced her fears.

Stepping out of the carriage she found her legs wobbled. Snape reached out to steady her. She imagined the shakiness that destabilized her was a combination of fear and adrenaline. _Pull yourself together_, she told herself. As they moved through the school to the hospital wing, Hermione looked to Fiona. "How much time?" she asked, moving through the door to see Harry and Ron hoovering over the still form on a bed. It was an eerie sight as she imagined herself lying in that same bed just days before.

"Maybe ten more minutes," Fiona answered her.

They had cut it close. She had just enough time to check on Ginny. Hermione quietly moved to the bedside as the adults hung back. There was nothing they could do for the moment.

"Hermione," Ginny said a mix of relief and fear. Ron and Harry turned toward their approaching friend. They seemed to share the same conflicting emotions. Hermione's presence meant Ginny was safe and she wasn't.

Hermione looked down at Ginny. She had a bruised cheek, her right arm was propped up on a pillow, and her left was guarding her right side. "Are you okay?" Hermione asked, feeling guilty.

"Yeah. He was angry but he didn't keep me long. He really wants…" Ginny trailed off and Hermione knew why.

"Me," she finished the sentence and looked to Harry and then back to Ginny. "I'm sorry he—"

"—it's not your fault." Ginny told her and then looked at the clock. They all knew time was ticking away.

Hermione took out her wand and placed it on the stand next to Ginny's bed. She hated leaving it behind, but she didn't want to lose it either. Up until this point Tom had been diligent in immobilizing her immediately to search her for her wand or any other weapon. She was certain it wouldn't matter where she hid it, he would find it… then she had a thought, looking to Harry to voice it, she felt the pull and held her breath.

~~/~~

It was a strange sensation "landing" in the room of requirement still standing. The energy she used to maintain her balance was enough of a distraction, she hadn't had time to locate Tom and prepare for his attack. Without warning, ropes wrapped around her wrists, pulling them up over her head until her feet left the ground. She felt the pull on her shoulders as they bore her weight. Her head was forced downward as her arms were squeezed together. Her shoes swung in and out of her field of view. The silence hung in the air. She sensed him behind her. All she could do was wait and stay calm. She wasn't waiting long before he circled around her. With some effort, she lifted her head to look him in the eyes.

He was furious. His irises were dark. A terrifying change from the blue that had looked at her last time. "You left," he said simply and waited. She sensed though he wasn't waiting for her to respond. "And I thought Gryffindors were brave and courageous."

"Funny, I thought Slytherins were cunning purebloods. I guess we'll both just have to live with the disappointment," she said, not quite sure where the words had come from, she just knew she was ready to fight back.

Her reward was a deep gash across her chest. Whatever spell he used ripped cleanly through her sweater and shirt underneath, leaving a diagonal wound from her collar bone to the edge of her rib cage. The blood beaded along the cut and then bloomed. "Always so smart," he said, poke her exposed skin with the tip of his wand, burning her. "The irony was that I only wanted to talk tonight. I planned a civil discussion and then return you to your time. Now, you'll need to be punished for your cowardice and insolence." He set his wand down and his hands roamed her body, looking for her wand, using the time to also intimidate her with the threat of an assault beyond physical pain. Satisfied she had no weapons and that his intentions were made crystal clear, he released the ropes holding her up so suddenly she collapsed at his feet. He grabbed her by her hair and hauled her up, pushing her against the table behind her. His body trapped her painfully against the stone edge, his hand pulling her hair back so she was forced to look him in the eyes. "If you leave the school grounds again before I can summon you, I'll take whatever random Gryffindor I can get and will kill them. Do you understand me?" his voice was calm but she felt his muscles that were pressed against her shaking with rage.

He held her head back so firmly she couldn't nod and was forced to offer a quiet, "Yes" in understanding. Her hands came up as she tried to push him off. He was unmovable. Unable to hold back her fear, he smiled and pushed in closer. She felt a hardness on her hip bone that created more panic than she had felt her entire time with him. He was excited. He ground himself against her and invaded her mouth with his tongue. She thought about biting down, then resisting the instinct, guessing the consequences would be worse than just letting him kiss her. Still she struggled, trying to push him off her or bring her knee up, all to find that she was well and firmly trapped between him and the table.

Finally, he pulled away, his breath shaking. "Do you understand me?" he asked, now ensuring she understood his implied threat.

"Yes," she said again, waiting. He released her and backed up a step. It seemed they both needed to compose themselves.

"Get on the table," he commanded.

She shook her head.

"Get on the table," he repeated.

"No."

The defiance appeared to confuse him. The standoff however was short lived. He stepped forward and lifted her easily. Slamming her down. Ropes finished the job, securing her wrists and ankles. And then he moved to the area behind the divider. Hermione knew her night of terror was just beginning. Taking a moment, she looked up at the ceiling to compose herself. That's when she saw the rune of protection she had placed there days ago. The two rooms _were_ connected. The implication was profound, yet she had no time to ponder it. Tom Riddle emerged with a short whip. Not the worst instrument he could have chosen, still the fear that came from the anticipated pain was acute. "Please. Don't."

The whip snapped against her thigh. She was not sure he was aiming or just getting a feel. "I'll stop when I feel you've learned your lesson," he said snapping the whip again, this time on her exposed sternum. Then in rapid succession, he brought the whip down and snapped back five times. Each one finding a new spot on her torso. It was then she realized this wasn't an ordinary whip, it was enchanted. The welts didn't just sting; the pain grew in intensity long after the initial insult.

Hermione knew there was nothing she could say or do to stop him. Her cries of pain even seemed to energize him. Knowing this she tried to control her reactions. Her best efforts were failures. The pain was too great and her response was primal. Focusing on the rune above her, she could only hope he would tire soon.

When he finally stopped, she was experiencing areas of numbness and areas that felt like they were on fire. Blinking away tears, her head rolled to find her tormentor. He was a few feet away, mopping away sweat with his shirtsleeve. It seems physical torture was hard work she mused. With a wave of his wand, her bindings disappeared. She didn't move, afraid of the pain that would come. In the end, she didn't have a choice, he grabbed hold of her wrists and pulled her up. A sob escaped her throat. When his hand pushed aside her sleeve she came alive. After all of this, she couldn't endure the insult and pain of the hex again. The struggle was short lived. His hand wrapped around her throat. "You're mine, do you understand?" he asked squeezing her throat and forearm tighter.

Hermione shook her head.

"Yes!" he yelled. "You're mine. If I summon you again and find you're out of reach, I will kill your friends. I will kill them all and will send them back for you to bury. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she finally relented with the little air she had left in her lungs. Riddle released her throat and brought his wand to her forearm. "Please don't hex it. They'll remove it, they have to or I'll die. Just place a mark and I'll leave it there."

Her words seemed to resonant. He did want the mark to stay and understood the long-term impact of a curse. With the tip on his wand he drew the rune, leaving a bloodied, black mark in its wake. "Leave it there," he hissed and finally released her completely. She stood and waited for whatever he had planned next.

Tom Riddle turned to her and considered her a moment wand at the ready in one hand and a small bottle in another. Flicking off the stopper with the thumb of the same hand holding the bottle he lifted it up. "Come here and drink this," he said. When she didn't move, he shouted. "I said come here!"

Hermione jumped and used the motion as some momentum to move toward him. The welts and bruises protested but she covered the small space as quickly as she could. Standing in front of him, he raised the bottle again. "What is it?" she asked unable to see the color or consistency as his hand covered the glass. His warning look told her she wasn't to be given the privilege of knowing what she was about to consume and if she asked again it would not be pleasant. She tried reaching for it as he jerked his hand away. Instead, she opened her mouth, allowing him to pour it in. To her surprise it was sweet and thick like honey and slid down easily. In seconds, she was feeling light-headed and then she saw his wand come up. She felt him in her mind, but it was different than the legilimency. He wasn't looking for a memory. It felt like he was placing something there. Like a shadow. Before she could fight him, it was gone and he was turning away from her. And then she was falling back to her time.

~~/~~

Once again, Hermione was confronted with the disorienting sensation of returning with the ground under her feet. This time, she found a bed behind her and she sat heavily. It seemed no one knew she was back yet and the moment of solitude was welcomed. In front of her Ginny was sleeping peacefully and for that, Hermione was thankful. She wasn't going to let Tom take her again. Further up, Ron was asleep in the bed next to his sister's. Her eyes closed briefly, she was exhausted and in pain, but her friends were safe. She was so consumed with the relief, she hadn't heard the footsteps behind her, or Harry calling her name. It was a surprise to see his green eyes looking into hers when she opened them.

He was crouching in front of her, concern evident. "Hermione, can you hear me?" he asked. He started to stand to go get Madam Pomfrey when she stopped him.

"No, don't go. Just sit with me a minute," she said. "Just, let's just sit here a minute. I'm okay."

Her words were meant to assure him. Despite this, he had eyes. He saw the welts peaking out from the rips in her clothes. The dried blood on her chest. The bruises on her bare skin… the fact that he could see her bare skin. She wasn't okay, but she didn't appear to be critically injured either. So he sat next to her on the edge of the bed, letting the silence bring her the peace she needed. The calm put him more on edge and he was afraid of the damage he couldn't see. Harry was surprised when she took his hand and rested her head on his shoulder. "Don't let them remove the mark," she said fingering her sleeve. "It's not the hex, it's just the brand." When he looked down, she was staring up at him. His eyes flicked to her lips and back to her eyes. Just before he could lean in and kiss her, she initiated the kiss. Closing his eyes, he deepened the kiss, his free hand coming up to cradle her face.

Ron made a noise across the room and the pair broke apart. To both of their relief Ron and Ginny were still sleeping. Hermione's cheeks were flush, either out of embarrassment or desire, Harry wasn't sure. She was pulling away and muttering an apology. It seemed she moved too quickly though, and she clutched her chest in pain. "I'll go get Madam Pomfrey and send word to Professor Dumbledore you're back," Harry said moving to help her to lay down. She curled into a ball and he placed a gentle kiss to her forehead. He had no idea what was happening, he wasn't opposed. He had feelings for Ginny but she was with Dean. There was a time he knew Hermione had feelings for Ron. Ron had done his best to ruin any chances he had to reciprocate. Then there was a time he thought of her as a sister. Yet the thought of losing her to Voldemort made him reassess his feelings. He loved her as his best friend and that love seemed to be changing. For once in his life those feelings seemed to be shared. Despite the situation, he felt excited for the possibilities and went to get the matron.

In the span of the few short minutes it took for Madam Pomfrey to gather what she needed and get to Hermione's bed; she was fast asleep. It didn't bother Pomfrey and she started her examination. Most of the wounds were superficial, but some were deep and would need immediate attention. They would need some privacy though. "Mr. Potter, go get the headmaster and Professor McGonagall. She's okay. Some injuries are in sensitive areas. I'll need about an hour. Come back then," she said positioning privacy curtains around the bed.

Her words hit Harry like a sucker punch. "Was she… did he…" he tried to form the words.

Madam Pomfrey was about to explain she couldn't share that information, but could tell his mind had taken him to a dark place and there was no need for him to stay there. "No, Harry," she said with sympathy. "Come back in an hour."

Before he left, he turned one last time. "She said to leave the mark on her arm. She said it wasn't the hex. It seemed important." When he was sure she understood, he tore himself away to find Dumbledore.


	5. Entanglement

**A/N: **So… it hadn't occurred to me to put a warning on the previous chapter. That chapter and this one has implied sexual assault, but it will never be explicitly described, it will never lead to rape, and it will never be a primary theme of this story. It was such a minor part of the whole story, I didn't think to give the warning. When I wrote it, it was to imagine the types of torment a young Tom Riddle may be experimenting with. My intention was not to write a "sexual assault" fanfic, and the story is about to shift gears significantly in the next few chapters. If you're willing to stick with it, I think you'll see the reason for this part of the story in later chapters.

Thanks for those that are reviewing and following. Special thanks to Jessi Granger, Harry Thomas Riddle, firefliesxx and Saki-Hime for the reviews. Sorry this installment took a bit longer to edit than planned.

**Chapter 5: Entanglement**

When Hermione woke, she guessed it was late morning. The bed Ginny had been occupying was empty, and light was filtering through from the windows across the room. She was sore, but the worst of the pain was gone. Reaching down to test the gash on her chest, she was surprised to find her clothes had been changed. She was in a hospital gown. Moving to sit up, she was again surprised and relieved to find herself alone. She was working on a plan, she wasn't sure who to trust just yet with her idea. Her friends certainly wouldn't go for it and likely wouldn't help her. She wasn't sure Dumbledore would support her either. Her best bet was Fiona she decided, suspected she would still have to let Dumbledore in on her idea if she was going to get it right. Sitting up she spotted some of her own clothes folded neatly on the chair beside the bed with a note. She recognized Harry's scrawl and smiled.

_Good morning, Hermione. I have Quidditch practice this morning but will come by after lunch to bring you food. Ginny's feeling better and made sure we left you some of your own clothes to change into when you woke up. Dumbledore wants to talk with you, I'd like to be there if that's okay? I can't stop thinking about this morning, I hope you feel the same way. I'd like to talk about it when you're up. Harry. _

Hermione's hand moved up to her lips, remembering how sweet the kiss was. Then her mind flashed to Tom Riddle's assault. Had she just been reacting to the safety of Harry or was it something more? She needed to sort it out but had too much to think about. If her plan worked, it would be in Harry's interest that she didn't pursue whatever was happening any further. She didn't want to hurt him after all of the loses he'd had in life. Moving stiffly to change behind the privacy curtain, she needed to find Dumbledore and Fiona before Harry came to find them.

Thankfully, she didn't have to go far, she found them both talking in hushed tones in the hallway leading into the hospital wing. Dumbledore spotted her first. "Ms. Granger. Are you escaping?" he asked trying to keep the concern out of his voice.

She flushed slightly, "I wanted to talk to you. Both of you. Alone."

Dumbledore nodded and motioned the to an office a short walk down the hallway. Pointing his wand to a small group of cushioned chairs in the corner, they came together in a circle. Dumbledore smiled. "Please sit. Madam Pomfrey would be very unhappy if you overdo it."

When they were all settled, Hermione began. "The rune I placed on the ceiling was there. In the past. I think the rooms are connected. And I think that means we can leave things in the room of requirement here and I can get them back then."

"Leave things. Like a wand?" Dumbledore asked, already having an idea of where she was going.

Hermione nodded. "After he searches me, there are times he leaves me free to move about the room. He thinks it's safe because where would I run to? But if we can put a wand in a secret spot I could get to… I think I can destroy the thread of life he's using," she said the last part quickly. Hoping they wouldn't protest.

"Well then, Hermione. You'd be stuck there," Fiona reasoned.

"I know, but he couldn't take anyone back anymore. This would all be over. And if I could get away, I could find a quiet place to live where I couldn't change time."

"Maybe there's a better way," Fiona said. "Not all of the time turners are gone. The prototypes are locked away and we still have unused threads that could be restored. Gilford and I have discussed the topic of time travel into the future. We've come to the conclusion that it could be possible to travel forward in time. The time turners that existed could only bring you back in time for short durations. Going back in time is actually harder to accomplish. If you can go fast enough, in one direction and return at the same speed, time will have moved at a different rate for those in your original location. It would take more than a time turner though… it would take a complex spell and perhaps a very powerful wand. Gifford has always thought we could make a wand with a thread of life. A wand with this type of core may possible to encase you in a protective bubble, we can change your speed in that bubble. This could allow you to manipulate a time turner to control your movement in increments. This has all been theory of course… Based on our calculations, we think someone could jump forward 5 or 10 years at a time. I would caution that it may come at a physical cost, but over the course of a month or so, you could move slowly enough to get back here safely."

Dumbledore was considering the idea. "We should get word to Gavin Ollivander. We've been in touch since his father disappeared. He's been busy protecting the wands left behind in the Death Eater's attack on their store, his expertise will allow us to speed up the process. And we should work out the best way to communicate this plan to my past self. My office at the time is just sixth floors directly below the room of requirement, in Professor McGonagall's current office. As soon as you're free, you must go there. Your movements through time will need to be accomplished in secret but also under supervision in case the physical toll is greater than we anticipate."

Hermione was relieved they were taking her idea seriously and that they may have a way to ensure she could get back… to Harry she thought. "We have to make sure he can't take another student before I jump forward. Could we put a secret room inside the room of requirement? That way I could destroy the thread of life, get a message to Professor Dumbledore then, and move forward a few hours. I could test its accuracy and the side effects, then I could hide inside the room of requirement during the next alignment to make sure he can't punish anyone. Once we're sure it's safe, I'll start jumping forward."

"I think that's a great idea, Ms. Granger. Let us go to the room of requirement," Dumbledore said and looked to his colleague. "And I'll leave the calculations, wand making, and time turner modifications to you and Gilford."

When everyone stood, they turned to see Harry standing in the doorway. He had two plates of food and a concerned expression. "Professor Dumbledore. Maybe I can eat lunch with Harry and meet you at the room entrance?" she said, hoping no one asked too many questions.

"I need to grab some things from my office, is one hour enough time?" he asked good naturedly.

Once they were alone, Hermione approached Harry and took a plate from his hand. Kissing him on the cheek she motioned to the empty chairs. "Thank you for the food, come and eat with me. I have to tell you about something." She felt better telling him about her idea now that there was a possibility that should could get back to her time.

Harry sat and listened apprehensively as she outlined the plan. There was a lot that could go wrong, then again, when did they ever have a plan that was foolproof. He wished he could take her place, but knew that was impossible. "How long would you be gone? For you? How long will it take to get back?" he finally asked.

"Ms. Fielding thinks it may take a month. It's all going to depend on how hard it is to jump. I may need time to recover," she said, not wanting to sugar coat the situation and unable to be anything but honest with him.

"And if the time turner or wand doesn't work or breaks?" he asked thinking about all the things that could complicate the plan, all the things they would be unable to test.

"I'll find a quiet place with loads of books to hide away and I'll be as old as Professor McGonagall the next time we see each other," she said taking his hand. Neither one had eaten much and the plates had been cast set aside.

Harry scooted forward in his chair to be closer. He wrapped both of hands around hers. "The alternative is worse I think. Letting Tom do whatever he wants to you," he said and felt her tense. "What did he do to you?"

She resisted the urge to pull away, let his touch ground her. "He only threatened to… he forced me to kiss him, threatened to do more but didn't. I think it's a matter of time though before he tries," she admitted. "Even if he doesn't, I can't spend the next year waiting in fear for the next time. I need to do something to end this."

Harry stood and pulled her to her feet. "What about us?" he asked drawing her in. It felt so natural to be close. It wasn't like his awkward interactions with Cho. They were best friends and he could share anything with her… his fears, his uncertainties, and he knew she would never make fun of him or judge him. He wasn't sure why it took him so long to realize that was what made a relationship real.

Hermione reached up and smoothed his unruly hair affectionately. "I'll come back and we'll see where this goes," she promised kissing him quickly on the lips only to be pulled into a more passionate kiss.

Pulling apart they both smiled at each other. Hermione's brow knit together as a stab of pain came fast at her temple and then disappeared as quickly as it came. "What's wrong?" a worried Harry asked.

She tried to brush it off, then realized he didn't want to lie to him, "A headache. It's been a long day," she said, and then remembered the potion. The feeling of Tom slipping through her mind.

Harry saw the look of confusion, and he knew there was something else. Something more than a long day. "There's something else." It wasn't a question. There wasn't pressure behind his words, just a hope that she trusted him as much as he trusted her.

"Right before I came back he had me drink something. A potion. I couldn't see what it was, what color it was," she said trying to remember any detail. "It was thick and sweet. And right after, I thought I felt him, or something in my mind. It wasn't like the Legilimens. Something dark, but subtler."

Harry thought instantly of the Half Blood Prince's potions book. He was sure there was something in there that would tell them what Tom Riddle was doing. He also knew she didn't care for the book. "Maybe I could go talk to Professor Slughorn? I still need to get that memory for Professor Dumbledore, asking him for help with this, may give me an opportunity to get more information about Tom's past." His offer was genuine, still, Harry planned to consult his annotated potions book as soon as he got back to his room.

"That would be great. Come up to the room of requirement with me first? I'd feel better if you were with me," she admitted. "Let me grab my wand and we can go up."

~~/~~

Hermione stood in the middle of her own private hell flanked by Harry, Dumbledore, and McGonagall. Fiona and Gilford had already left for Hogshead to apparate to the ministry to get the time turners and then to convince Gavin Ollivander to return with them to Hogwarts. Everyone knew they couldn't pull everything off in time to prepare Hermione for that night, but they could put some elements in place to make sure the room would work the way they expected. Hermione looked at the base of the table. She often ended up on the ground, within reach of the thick, stone slab. She looked to McGonagall, "Do you think we could use an _absconditum_ charm and make a secret drawer here?"

Her transfiguration professor stepped up and nodded. "Would you like to try it?"

Hermione nodded. In her mind she envisioned the type of drawer she needed. It had to be long enough for a wand or two, a pocket for the time turner, and some parchment for the note she needed to give to Dumbledore. Pointing her wand at a spot close to the ground, a drawer slid out. She inspected it and pushed it in. The stone sealed itself up. The new hideaway was undetectable. "I'll need to open it without a wand," she said looking a Minerva. "And it would be nice if I could know it's there tonight without giving it away."

McGonagall looked at the spot and examined the stone around the drawer. She waved her wand in complicated loops whispering several incantations. It appeared unchanged until Hermione looked closer. There was a small blue stone embedded in the front of the drawer. When she ran her finger over the spot, she felt an indentation under the stone that would have only been seen from underneath. Poking her finger into the indentation she pulled, and it slid open again. "Put your wand in there," McGonagall instructed. Hermione did as she told and closed it. The blue stone changed to black. "You'll know if it contains the items you place there by looking at the color. Here," she said handing her a ring from her finger. It was a red ruby in the shape of the Gryffindor crest. Hermione set it neatly in the pocket and closed the drawer. The stone changed from blue to black. "If its blue tonight the contents aren't there. If its black you'll know it works."

Hermione nodded and stood. Dumbledore surveyed the room. "I think we can use a similar system for the hidden room," he said. Stopping next to the door to the room he created a room in the opposite corner. Close enough to the exit so that she could run if she needed to. After a few modifications to indicate it was there, he opened the door. It was small, just large enough to accommodate a chair. He motioned for her to sit. When she did, the wall in front of her became transparent.

She could see Harry walking around the partition and she felt compelled to stop him. "Harry, no!" she said getting up, exiting the small space. It was too late. He was standing frozen in place looking at the wall of instruments. He knew they were there, still seeing them hit him hard. She came up behind him and tried to tug him away.

Harry turned on the spot and placed his hands on her shoulders, then moving them up to cup her face. "Has he used any of those on you?" he asked urgently. She started to shake her head. "Don't lie to me."

"Just the small whip," she admitted.

When he went to reach for it, she stopped him. "Harry you can't. He can't suspect the room works in reverse," she said, finally getting through to him. "Leave it all there and come look at the room. I want to see what it looks like from the outside when someone is in there."

When they turned they were both surprised to see the adults watching them. They had been so engrossed in their own pain that they forgot there was an audience. In embarrassment, Hermione let go of Harry's hand. She watched a flicker of concern cross Dumbledore's face, then it was gone as quickly as it came. With Harry inside the room, Hermione examined the outside wall for any sign of the transparent patch. It appeared solid. Nodding her approval, she looked at Dumbledore. "Is there anything else we should do?"

"I think this is a good start, Ms. Granger. Unfortunately, now we wait for Fiona and Gilford to work out the details of your return," he said. "If you'll excuse me, I need to write a letter to myself."

Once Dumbledore left, Hermione turned to Professor McGonagall. "Has anything happened—"

"—with the radio from the shrieking shack? No Ms. Granger."

Hermione looked out the exit and back to the hidden room that was now sealed up. "Maybe I should stay here and wait to see…"

Minerva looked over the young student. She had always been slim, but her ordeal had clearly taken its toll. On top of it all, she may just be days away from taking a trip no witch or wizard has dared to take. She then looked at Harry. He was clearly and quickly falling in love with this girl he may lose forever. She wouldn't have the pair waste their time. Even if her hunch was true, that Tom was communicating with someone in their time through the room, it wouldn't matter in the larger scheme. "Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter. I'm going to suggest that you two enjoy some leisure for the rest of the weekend. We're ready if we get any intel through the listening device, and if you're successful, I'm not sure it matters if we find out how Tom Riddle is passing along his information to the future." The trio stepped out of the room of requirement. "I've sent for our things we left behind at the Hogshead. Yours should be delivered to your room this afternoon. I believe you took all your books?" she said with a touch of humor. "I'll be in my office if either of you need anything. I recommend you return to the hospital wing at sundown." As she finished her words a touch of sadness replaced the humor and she turned toward the stairs.

Hermione looked at Harry. The specter of what was to come hung over them, yet for the first time since they returned from the holiday break there was hope, or at least a plan to fight back. "I suppose you want to go study," Harry said with a smile.

She took his hand, "Actually, no. Let's go find some place quiet. I think we should talk."

Though the suggestion sounded ominous, Harry was glad she wanted to figure out what was happening between the two of them. "I know a place," he said with a smile and pulled her along.

~~/~~

Hermione and Harry sat in the south tower overlooking the lake. The sun was about to set and the sky was lit up like a painting. A small blue flame hovered above the floor in front of them radiating warm in the cold winter afternoon. Hermione was leaning on Harry, his arm draped over her shoulders. She held his hand in hers as she studied their intertwined fingers. In the hours since they climbed the stairs to the tower, they had covered a lot of ground. Hermione's theory that someone at Hogwarts was meant to get the messages from the past, Harry's frustration at having to let Tom take her that night, and their shared concern that if she didn't stop Tom soon his assault on her would move beyond inflicting pain. Although she knew he would react badly to the details of the previous night, she needed to tell someone what had happened and Harry was the only one she trusted enough with the full story. Once the immediate concerns were discussed they approached the topic of their newfound feelings for each other.

Neither one could say for sure if it was the trauma that caused their friendship to evolve or if the feelings had been there for a while and had just been ignored. Even more, neither was sure what would happen when she came back to him. So there they sat, their time ticking away, each one dreading the night ahead. "Does it matter," Hermione finally said. "If I come back and we decide friendship is better than a relationship?"

Harry was certain of one thing. No matter what happened he would always love her. And that love would survive a failed relationship. "No. I think we just enjoy this moment and you do everything in your power to come back to me." The sun finally gave in to the relenting horizon and they knew their time was up. Harry stood. He didn't want her to return so far away from the hospital wing. She looked up at him, not wanting to accept her fate. "We can't stay here…" he said offering her a hand up. Reluctantly she took it and let him pull her up. With her free hand, she used her wand to put out the fire and he led her toward the hospital wing.

They were surprised to find Ginny and Ron waiting for them. "Where have you two been?" Ron asked and then saw they were holding hands. Harry moved to pull away. This time Hermione stopped him. It wasn't the way he would have told his best mate and the girl he once pined after, then he wondered if there would have been a good time.

Hermione spotted her book bag across the room where she had stowed it when she arrived the night before. Moving to grab it, she wanted to know how much time she had. "How are you feeling Ginny?" she asked while she pulled the star maps out.

"Better," the redhead said moving to help her friend spread the parchment out on an empty bed. "How are you?"

She absently rubbed her chest where her recently healed skin itched. "Better," Hermione repeated and waved her wand over the maps. The solar system came to life. They all watched as the moon again lagged behind Mars, Saturn, and Venus. When all four lined up, they knew Hermione's time was up for the night. "You guys should go get some sleep," she said sitting on the opposite bed, starting her vigil.

Ron ran his hand through his hair. "Sure," he started, clearly upset over whatever was happening between Harry and Hermione. "It seems like you don't need us."

"Ron," Ginny started but Hermione finished it.

"Ron, I really don't have to explain myself to you. Yes, Harry and I are together. No, it's really none of your business. You have Lavender, we have to learn to deal with that, you can deal with this," she said pulling out her wand and setting it on the table. "We'll be a bit more respectful and won't snog in front of you. Now, I'm glad you came here to support me. My suggestion that you both go on and get some rest was only meant that you should get some rest. I feel guilty thinking about you all just sitting around waiting when there is nothing any of us can do tonight. But by all means, stay and watch me disappear."

Harry couldn't help but smile at the directness. It was a refreshing change from the passive aggressive interactions that he had witnessed before the holidays. It seems her brush with Tom Riddle had put some things into perspective.

"Well, then we'll just wait with you to, uh, disappear. And then we'll go get some sleep until you get back," Ron said sheepishly. No one acknowledged, each on knew, that it was the time in between made them uncomfortable. Not knowing what was happening to her. They all sat at on the edge of the bed watching the conjured planets turn.

McGonagall walked in and found them silently watching, anticipating. "Did any of you eat tonight?" she asked. At the blank stares she offered a disapproving grunt. With the flick of her wand a picnic appeared in front of them. Even more surprising, the stoic professor sat down on the floor grabbing a sandwich and looking at her students expectantly. "Am I eating alone?"

They all smiled and felt the tension leave. Hermione was the first to move from the bed to the tartan blanket. Quickly her three friends joined the pair around the baskets of food and let laughter and stories fill the time. Harry finally relaxed and enjoyed the moment with his friends. It seemed Hermione's words to Ron were taken in stride and may have been enough to break the ice and heal the broken friendship. As they kept their discussion about the mundane, he kept one eye on the solar system still turning on the bed next to them. The moon was now in its alignment position. She could be taken from him any moment. Reaching over he took her hand and was pleased that the action was so natural it didn't distract her from her story, it didn't draw her attention to him. The longer he waited for the inevitable the more anxious he grew. He was terrified that this time would be different based on Tom Riddle's actions toward Hermione in her own words. Before their discussion in the south tower his worst fear was that he would inflict permanent physical injury. Now, there was a deeper fear.

When Ron took over the story and all attention was on him, Hermione looked at Harry. She squeezed his hand, sensing his tension. When she leaned over to speak to him, he bent his head to hear her better. "I'm going to be okay, whatever happens tonight," she told him and squeezed his hand again. As she straightened, she also stiffened and looked into Harry's eyes. And then she was gone.

When she reappeared in front of Tom Riddle, she was still sitting on the floor. He seemed amused at the vulnerable position this placed her in as he towered over her. To her, the worst part was that her back was to the table and she couldn't turn to check for the drawer without drawing attention to the area, and the hidden room was too far away for her to see if the stone embedded in the wall was there. She would have to bide her time. So she waited to see what he did.

"Stand up," he told her.

Not wanting to face his wrath so early in the evening, she stood. As she moved, he stepped forward. She found her face inches from his.

"Turn around and face the table," he said leaving her confused. When she didn't move, his face hardened. "Now!"

Jumping she turned hesitantly, then took the moment to observe the black stone indicating the drawer was there and the ring was there. While she was grateful for the opportunity to make her observations, she wasn't thrilled about turning her back on her tormentor.

"Put your hands on the table," he said and waited until she was leaning forward, palms flat on the table in front of her. He grew smug at her compliance. Tom ran his hands from her wrists over her arms. When he reached her shoulders he moved his hands to her side, purposefully allowing his fingers to trail over her chest as they slid down to her waist.

Hermione fought the urge to turn and push him away. She needed to lull him into a false sense of security. When she had the freedom to reach the drawer, when they were ready for her to fight back she needed him to believe she was complacent. His hands hit a sensitive spot along her inner thigh she pulled away. "Stop it," she said brushing his hands away. "I don't have a wand. I don't want to lose it here."

He stopped and considered her words, remaining in her personal space.

"Take two steps back," he said and then circled around her to face her again. He was toying with her and she did her best to remain passive. He took her by the shoulders and moved her backward further.

She felt her legs hit the back of something hard and unmoving. Then he pushed her down to find a chair that wasn't there moments before. Once she was seated, cuffs appeared trapping her wrists and a bar snaked across her shins. Once she was securely locked in the chair, he conjured another chair and sat in front of her. His knees framed hers, boxing them in. From his jacket pocket, he pulled out a vial. "Open up," he commanded. When she didn't obey, he cast the imperious curs on her. There was no time to resist it. He poured the contents down her throat. The curse was immediately lifted. She recognized it as the same substance as before. Then his wand was out, and he was again in her mind… a shadow moving through it.

What he was doing, she had no idea, and that terrified her. She wished she had let Harry find answers instead of asking him to stay with her for the afternoon. She hadn't even thought to mention this strange behavior to Dumbledore. It was had all taken a back seat to the excitement of finally having a plan. When she tried to speak, she found she had no control over her voice. Briefly she wondered if he had cast the imperious curse on her again but dismissed the idea. He wasn't controlling her pre se, more like interfering with her ability to speak. It was a strange sensation.

When he was done, he lowered his wand and watched her like she was a trapped animal. Perhaps waiting for her to react. When she didn't, he shifted so one knee was between her knees. Then both his hands were on her thighs, moving up and down. She stiffened. "You don't like this?" he questioned, resting them further up then she would have liked.

"No," she said, unwilling to elaborate.

He playfully knocked his knees on either side of hers. "Would you prefer it were Potter that touched you?" he asked, watching her eyes intently.

She straightened. Trying to appear defiant while also hoping she had room in her chair to back up. "No," she repeated, concerned that he might know her relationship with Harry had changed. It was also possible he was just assuming they were a couple based on their close associations that would have been reported to him.

Tom leaned forward, the movement caused his hands to creep up even further. "I think you're lying," he said and his lips hovering close to hers.

"Stop it," she repeated her earlier protest but had no other recourse. "Please." To her surprise, he withdrew his hands and stood up.

"You're right. We have all night," it was clearly meant as a threat of things to come.

He was standing behind her and she felt his intrusion again into her mind.

~~/~~

Harry walked out into the courtyard he and Hermione had escaped to after the first night she disappeared. So much had happened since that night, it was hard for him to believe it was only a week ago. He sat down at the same bench and looked up at the night sky. In all of his astronomy and divination classes, he listened to his instructors tell him about the celestial power that could be harnessed for powerful magic. He never really believed it. It seemed too mystical. At that he was forced to laugh at himself. After everything he had seen and done with magic, why did he those lessons seem unbelievable? Now, Hermione was forced to confront the reality of the power in the sky above him.

As he scanned the canvas above him, his eyes moved to the south tower and thought of the promises made and the promise he felt. He wasn't sure why it had taken either of them so long to realize the love they shared was more than friendship. Maybe this was why Harry's relationship with Cho and Hermione's pursuit of Ron felt so forced and artificial. Somewhere in them they knew they had pure love for someone, but it was so natural they never considered it was also a romantic love. What he knew now was that everything his inexperience told him about dating was wrong. It had been confused by the unknown, by other people telling him what love was, and by watching TV and movies.

From the south tower, his eyes moved to the dark windows on the seventh floor. The room of requirement was empty. He checked himself. He even went into the hidden room, expecting to see what was happening through the one-way glass. He understood that the magic Tom Riddle had tapped into was so extraordinary because he had combined three ancient magics. It gave him a respect for Voldemort he hadn't felt before. Despite is motivations, it was inspired and required a surprisingly open mind. To believe a thread of life, centuries old contained useable magic. To recognize the wild magic inherent in the room of requirement and to have the audacity to harness that magic. And finally, to accept the belief in celestial alignment to open a door to time and space. It was, in a way, an enlightenment Harry suspected was unique even among experienced witches and wizards, that a sixth year Hogwarts student could think in such a way was incredible, even if it was terrifying. Then he thought of Hermione. Perhaps this was not so incredible. She had put all the pieces together despite the pain and torment she had been forced to endure. Her mind was open to the possibilities and her observational skills allowed her to gather all the extraneous details. Of course, her pursuit of knowledge led her to the library and all her ancient books she loved so much. Tom Riddle may have had the inspiration, but his motivation, his lust for power would be his downfall. Harry was sure of that.

"Harry?" Dumbledore's voice interrupted his thoughts.

Standing, he moved to meet the headmaster. "Professor. I just needed some air," he said, gesturing to the open space before them.

"I understand you went to the room of requirement earlier," Dumbledore said, curiosity lacing the words.

Harry nodded, "I wanted to see if it would let me in. I thought maybe, if it did I could do something. See something that would help."

"And?"

"Nothing. She's not here. She's really back there, in his time," he said painfully.

"Fiona and Gilford have returned with Mr. Ollivander's son," Dumbledore informed him. "They're working now to modify the time turner and wand Ms. Granger will need. I think we can be ready tomorrow night."

Dumbledore meant the words to be comforting, however, they merely changed his fears. "What if she can't destroy the thread. What if she can't make it back to me… to here."

The older man did not miss the choice of words. "I think we'll find Ms. Granger is a formidable opponent, and we'll be able to track her movements in a special book, a Tempus Semita, so we'll know if she's successfully in using the time turner and wand. I might also gain some new memories that will be informative." Dumbledore said with a wry smile and then shivered at the cold night air. "Come inside. She'll be returned soon."

Harry took in all of the words as they walked back into the warmth of the medical wing. He was getting used to the unusual sight of his rigid head of house sleeping uncomfortably in a hospital chair. She was clearly positioned to keep an eye on the spot Hermione was last seen but had succumb to exhaustion. The star map continued to spin on the bed and Harry did see that the alignment was nearly over. Moving to the side of Professor McGonagall, Harry woke her gently with a pat on her shoulder.

Minerva jerked awake despite the gentle touch. She looked around the room and composed herself quickly. "Is she back?"

"Soon," Dumbledore told her while Harry woke Ron and Ginny who had chosen vacant beds down the row.

By the time Harry turned, he saw Hermione reappear. She was standing now. Harry moved quickly to her, sensed her tension, and didn't touch her. "Hermione?" he asked. She was visibly shaken but had no signs of physical injury. When she reached out for him, he enveloped her in an embrace. She trembled in his arms and buried her head in his chest. His mind raced to his worst fears. "Shh. You're back, you're safe," he said, his hand cradling her head and her arms came out, wrapping tightly around him.

Everyone else kept a respectful distance and Ginny went to get Madam Pomfrey. Harry saw the matron approach.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, she shook her head and squeezed him hard. "Did he…" Harry couldn't use the words. When she didn't answer him, he pulled back and framed her face with his hands. He wished he had more privacy and looked back at the small group. They got the hint and shuffled out of the room. "Hermione, did he rape you?" he finally asked. She shook her head. He didn't quite believe her.

"He didn't… he touched me… he used a spell…" her sentence was broken by sobs she was trying to suppress.

"What spell?" he asked, and her cheeks flushed red. Harry was beginning to understand. He wasn't well versed in _bedroom spells_, still teenage boys talked. Anger rose up. If he felt helpless before it was nothing compared to the frustration that gripped him now. "Hermione…" he said and pulled her close again. She needed to tell someone who could help her, and he suspected Professor McGonagall was the best choice. He moved to help her sit in a chair and she tensed. "I'm just going to get Professor McGonagall," he told her, thinking her protest was related to his distance, then he caught the look of fear she had leveled at the chair. Not understanding what was going on entirely, he shifted and pointed to the bed. When she relented and sat on the edge, he crouched down, brushed some hair out of her eyes. As he smoothed her hair back, she leaned into his touch. "You need to tell McGonagall what he did, she can help," he started but she was protesting.

"I need to talk to Professor Dumbledore," she said and saw his confusion. She knew she needed to deal with her assault. She was more concerned about whatever Tom was doing to her mind. "Tom, he's been in my mind again and I don't understand why. I need to tell Professor Dumbledore in case its important."

When he started to protest, she spoke up. "I'll talk to Professor McGonagall. I will, I promise. This might be important."

He stepped out into the hallway and saw everyone turn. "She's not hurt. Physically. But he's done something. Well, a few things and she needs help," he said looking at his two teachers. "Maybe professor Dumbledore first? And then she might need a counselor," he said hoping McGonagall would understand without telling Ron and Ginny too much.

The sadness in her eyes told him she understood. Dumbledore seemed to as well. "Mr. Weasley, Ms. Weasley," McGonagall started. "Why don't you go get Hermione some fresh clothes and her shower items?"

The pair seemed relieved to have a task and moved quickly out of site.

Harry, Dumbledore, and McGonagall turned in the opposite direction. Dumbledore sat on the bed directly in front of Hermione while Minerva stood to her side and offered her some tissues. Harry hung back until she looked around for him. He wasn't sure he could keep his emotions in check. He knew he had to try for her. Sitting down on her side opposite of McGonagall, he took her hand and waited.

Hermione calmly recounted the potion Tom made her drink and the darkness she felt inside her mind. Dumbledore's brow furrowed. "Would you share that memory with me? I'd like Professor Snape to see it too," he said.

Her hand jerked in Harry's and he felt her stiffen. Dumbledore seemed to sense the reaction as well. "Just the memory of those moments," he started but when she still seemed uncomfortable he considered. "Is there a single example you would feel comfortable sharing, if not all of the instances?"

Finally, she relaxed. "Two. Is that enough?"

"I think that will do," Dumbledore said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Taking a small crystal vial out of a pocket, he handed it Harry who held it steady. When the silver strands were safely contained, Harry handed it back and took her hand again.

Dumbledore and McGonagall stepped aside to talk in hushed tones, Harry looked at his girlfriend. Her eyes were cast down. "Hey," he said, getting her attention. "You have nothing to be ashamed of."

She nodded but he was unconvinced that she agreed.

"Did he do that while he was…" Harry trailed off. Even though he wasn't exactly sure what Tom had done to her, he understood enough. When she nodded she looked away again.

Harry didn't feel qualified to help her. However, he suspected he was the only one that could at the moment. "Dumbledore thinks the wand and time turner will be ready tonight. He won't touch you again," Harry told her. "And you're going to be the one to stop him."

"What if I can't?"

It broke Harry's heart that one terrible night could rob her of her confidence. "Listen to me. You are the reason we've gotten out of every tight spot we've been in. You're smarter than him and you're better than him. He's the coward that will only confront you when you're unarmed and at a disadvantage. What he did to you was terrible and awful and you couldn't stop him. And it wasn't your fault."

He could feel her sitting up straighter and was happy to see her shift her gaze from the floor to his face. She placed a small, sweet kiss on his lips and turned her head to rest on his shoulder.

McGonagall returned to the pair after Dumbledore was on his way. It seemed they had some ideas about Tom's intension but had no answers. Well, no answers they were willing to share with him and Hermione, Harry thought.

Minerva sat in the space Dumbledore had just vacated and seemed to be thinking about her words carefully. "Hermione, do you think you can tell me what happened?" she asked.

Hermione let go of Harry's hand, trying to get some distance, to make her story less personal. "It started right away. When he was searching me for a wand. He was very thorough," she started, her voice quiet.

Harry stood. He didn't think he could just sit there when she recounted the story and he sensed she needed the physical distance from him in order to tell it.

"I'm not sure if the room or Tom conjured the chair. He made me sit down. It had built in restraints," she said rubbing her wrists. Harry notices the bruises for the first time. Hermione cleared her throat and shifted. "He wouldn't stop touching me. I was trapped and couldn't get away. Then he was kissing me, groping me. And then…" she started to cry.

Harry couldn't take it, but before he could reach her, McGonagall was moving to sit next to her, offering more tissues. "You're doing good. What did he do then?"

"And then…he made me enjoy it," she said with such sadness that it broke Harry's heart.

Harry looked to McGonagall, at a loss of what to do.

Minerva sensed there was more and gave Hermione a minute to compose herself and continue. "It was some spell, _voluptas_. He kept using it," she said her cheeks growing pink. "He'd let me…recover…and then use it again. A few times he used the cruciatus curse at the same time, other times he would be in my head. I couldn't stop any of it… he just kept me chained to the chair. He didn't want anything from me, I think he was doing it because it was fun for him."

McGonagall handed her another tissue. "There was nothing you could do," she told her. "He's the one who should be ashamed, not you."

Hermione couldn't stop the tears now. She knew McGonagall was right, but it wasn't just that he manipulated her emotions, she felt genuine pleasure when he did it. She was afraid that he was right when he told her she wanted him. And how could Harry ever want to touch her again if he knew.

"None of this is fair Hermione, and it seems you won't have the luxury of processing this before you get thrown back into the viper's nest. Take the morning to shower, get some rest, and try to prepare for tonight. Come talk to me before dinner, and talk to your friends," she told Hermione and gave a meaningful look at Harry. "Be honest with them and with yourself. And it's okay to not be okay."

"Thanks professor," Hermione said as McGonagall left the two alone.

Harry didn't know what she needed and settled on sitting across from her. "What do you need?"

Her hands were shredding her used tissue. She had to tell Harry before he got any more involved with her. He had to know so he didn't waste his time. "I need a shower and clean clothes… and maybe we can burn these?"

"Definitely, I'll get some pointers from Seamus. We'll make quick work of them when you ready," he said and was happy to see the smile. Concern crept back in quickly when she got serious again.

"Harry," she started. "We should talk."

The words were ominous. "Okay, we should talk. You'll need to know my feelings haven't changed and if you're about to push me away so I don't get hurt it won't work."

Now she genuinely smiled. "Harry, you're sweet and I think I love you, but I need you to know some things that may change your mind."

Harry pulled her up and looked her straight in the eye. "Hermione, I _know_ I love you. I will listen to any concern you have. There is nothing Tom Riddle could do to you, make you do, or make you feel that will change my feelings for you. I hope that makes it easier for you to talk to me. And if you share these concerns and I'm still all in, I hope that settles it."

She kissed him and blinked away the last of her tears. "I want a shower and some sleep. Then we need to check in with Fiona and Gilford. Maybe we can take our lunch up to the south tower?"

"It's a date," he said as Ginny arrived with her personal items.


	6. The Uncertainty Principle

**A/N: **Special shout out to Jessi Granger and Saki-Hime. Thanks for sticking with this story. Thanks as well to the guest reviews and all the follows. This was a very long chapter and I decided to break it out into two chapters so you all don't bored. I'm editing chapter 7 today and will post tomorrow.

**Chapter 6: The Uncertainty Principle**

January 12, 1997

Harry moved through the darkness of his room, trying not to wake the others. The rising sun filtered through the window giving him a dim, blue light to see the school bag on top of his trunk. There was one book he sought. Fishing out his burrowed potions' book, he held it close to his chest. The answer to the potion Hermione had been made to drink had to be in the annotated pages. He was sure of it. Next, he opened the trunk, seeking out a pair of balled up socks. This was one contribution he could give his girlfriend. Luck. Pulling out the small golden vial, Harry smiled. If ever there was a time to use Felix Felicis it was to make sure these wild theories could be implemented and that Hermione made it back to him.

The liquid luck gave him hope. Putting it carefully in an inside pocket of his robes, Harry made his way to the empty common room. The pages of the potions book crinkled, wrinkled corners stood as hallmarks of spilt potions. Harry forced himself to focus on the book index. Reading the section headings, discouragement was immediate. The only thing he knew was that the potion was thick and sweet. She offered no comment on a feeling that resulted from taking it. No physical manifestation of the influence of the potion. Tom seemed to be using it to affect or enhance whatever spell he was casting. She said it felt like he was leaving something in her mind. Seeing the heading "Influence Potions" he decided that was as good as any place to start. The first few potions were familiar to him thanks to Fred and George. Love potions, laughing potions, hate potions. He could imagine, in the wrong hands, how each of the them could be used hurt someone. The descriptions of the final products, their consistency and their affects, were clearly not the potion he sought. About to give up and take his chances with Professor Slughorn, Harry turned the page to the end of the section. There, opposite the next section heading for Poison Antidotes should have been a blank. The familiar ink scrawl filled the page. The title at the top read "Curse Containment Draught" and the description at the bottom made him stand up. "Thick, golden potion that could be confused with honey," he read aloud. Tom was cursing her, but why? The potion was meant to contain a curse so that it couldn't grow or expand. Was it the mark on her arm, he wondered and then dismissed that thought. Based on her memories he witnessed in the pensieve and her recitation of the encounters when Tom used the potion, there didn't appear to be a correlation.

Still standing, Harry considered his options. There were clearly curses and dark magic that weren't taught at Hogwarts. He had been tasked by Dumbledore to find out what forbidden sorcery Tom Riddle had been interested in. Going to Slughorn and using this occasion to possibly get that memory of Tom would be the responsible choice. There was also the possibility that whatever Tom was doing to Hermione was unrelated to his potion master's altered memory. He might just be wasting time. The obvious person to talk to was Snape. This was almost as distasteful to Harry as using dark magic. His last option was Dumbledore himself, but there was a daunting amount of work that needed to be done in order to prepare Hermione for her tasks ahead.

Deciding his best option was Horace Slughorn, Harry headed to his quarters, hoping to catch him before he made his way to breakfast.

~~/~~

_Tom pinned Hermione to the table with his body weight. He circled both of her wrists with one hand and pulled them up above her head. She struggled, but he remained unmoving as she expended precious energy. Realizing the futility, she stopped struggling. His thoughts slithered through her mind, sowing seeds of confusion and doubt. His mouth roamed the exposed skin of her neck and moved up to capture her mouth. Then her hands were free and she was pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. Hermione turned her head to catch her breath and saw Harry bound to the chair that had been her prison. The look on his face was pure devastation. _

Hermione woke with a start, sweating and breathing heavy. She covered her eyes with her hand, trying to steady herself. Looking at her bedside clock she decided 4 hours of rest was as much as she could hope for. Wanting another shower, she got up, gathered some things. Before she got to the showers, she decided she wanted to relax in the prefect's bath and changed course. Once inside, she locked the door to ensure privacy and started the water and bubbles. When she shed her clothes, she studied herself in the mirror. Her ribs were more defined than normal; a sign of the weight she knew she lost. Marks marred her skin where the wounds from the whip where still healing. The gash on her chest was an angry pink color with bruising at the edges. Her wrists and ankles had similar injuries that she knew would sting when she got in the bath. The mark on her forearm remained… a brand that reminded her Tom Riddle was in control. If everything went according to plan that night, she would take that control back. As she slipped into the warm, soothing water she let the sharp pains drift away and then considered the deepest scars couldn't be seen.

It terrified her how much she cared about Harry and didn't want him to settle for someone who couldn't make him happy. She didn't know she would ever be the same again after her latest encounter with Tom Riddle. On top of that, she didn't even know yet if their plan for her to return after she destroyed the thread of life would work.

Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the floral scent of the thick bubbles floating on the surface of the water. It calmed her, letting her think with more clarity. The most frustrating part of her current situation was the lack of control. The decisions that were being made for her. She decided she couldn't do the same to Harry. That afternoon she would lay out all the facts with brutal honesty and let him decide if he could still look at her, let alone love her.

With that settled, she slid under the water, letting the liquid surround her and protect her from the rest of the world.

~~/~~

The small shudder at the top of Slughorn's door opened. The older man peered through the opening and wasn't surprised to see Harry. "Mr. Potter," he said. The door opened and he motioned his student inside. "How is Ms. Granger?"

"She's good, considering the circumstances," Harry replied. "But she needs your help."

Taken aback, Slughorn's brow furrowed. "Dumbledore has of course explained the situation to the teachers. He hasn't indicated that he needs me. Professor Snape's stores of potions are more expedient. Nevertheless, I'm happy to be of assistance. What did you need?"

"Information, Professor," Harry started and saw the man's back go up in defense. "You know something about Tom. Something he was experimenting with when he was your student. Dark magic, sir. We need to know what that was. I need to know."

"Harry, I swear to you that had I known Tom Riddle was planning to hurt Hermione—"

"I'm not accusing you. He's giving her something. A potion. One that's thick and sweet, like honey," Harry plowed on.

Moving to a book shelf, pulled out a silver key from his vest pocket. A small door appeared on the middle shelf. The key slid in, Slughorn backed up allowing the complex lock to open and then finally pulled out an ornate book from the darkness shadowing the rest of the contents. The book was placed on a reading podium. Horace used his wand to flip to the page he sought. "Maledictum Capio, the curse containment draught. You see Harry, the war between evil and good magic has been waging since the very beginning. Dark wizards create a curse, and the rest of us owe it to the world to make sure that curse can be counteracted. If we cannot create a defense, the curse is unforgivable. The list of these unforgivable curses used to be much longer; however, Maledictum Capio gave us a very powerful tool to fight back," he explained and then motioned for Harry to review the pages.

"He's cursing her but is delaying the effects," Harry concluded, then saw the long list of curses successfully contained by the potion. "It could be any of these?"

"I'm afraid so," Slughorn said. "I suggest you share this information with Professor Dumbledore. He may be able to help you narrow down the possibilities."

Harry shook his head, "But you already know what dark magic Tom Riddle was interested int. You might remember something that will help us protect her."

Slughorn let out a breath. He looked at Harry with a mixture of guilt and apprehension. Silence lingered until Horace collected a small crystal vial. "You have to understand, Harry. I had no idea he was serious," he explained, collecting the silver strands of a memory he thought effectively buried. "Harry, I don't think this memory has the information you need. This magic he sought cannot be contained. He's cursing her some other way, and I have no memory that can help you sort that out."

~~/~~

Fiona Fielding leaned over her workbench. A newly modified time turner was resting in a velvet lined case next to her as she worked through the calculations needed to ensure the physics they planned to manipulate were correct. Their plan was to essentially create an envelope around Hermione that would allow her to approach the speed of light without physically moving in any direction. Once she reached the appropriate speed constant, the time turner would then be used to snap her back to normal time and space. They would need to be precise in the number of turns needed for each axis of the device to make sure Hermione made stable, predictable jumps. In fact, her first jump needed to be accurate to the minute. Subsequent jobs would be done in 5-year increments, but they still weren't sure how these jumps would affect Hermione. They didn't have time to test it or they would run the risk of her missing that night's alignment, jeopardizing the lives of other students.

Standing up straight, Fiona worked out the kinks between her shoulder blades and looked over at the second workbench in the empty classroom. Ollivander and Gilford were similarly hunched over, restoring the thread of life that would be used to make the wand core. She was excited to be part of such innovative magic, she just wished it hadn't come at the cost Hermione was paying. She sensed something had been different about the girl's experience the previous night, picking up on the urgency from Dumbledore and McGonagall when they met for an update over breakfast.

A knock at the opened door frame caught everyone's attention. Hermione was standing a respectful distance. Fiona offered a smile, but it was Ollivander that welcomed her in. "Ms. Granger, you're here just in time, do you want to watch us embed the core?" His eyes were kind, and he seemed familiar to her. He reminded her very much of his father, and she also had a vague recollection of meeting him when she gotten her wand right before her first year.

Her eyes sparkled, clearly enticed by the rare opportunity. When she got to the workbench, the wood jumped slightly. She was taken by surprise. It looked like her current wand. "It's vine?" she asked in appreciation.

Ollivander nodded, smiling broadly at the response he had seen from the wand even before the core was inserted, "Ten and three quarters. I actually made your current wand. My dad always told me about the vine wands and the witches and wizards lucky enough to be chosen by such wands."

"The wood looks much older than mine," she observed.

"Very good," Gavin said impressed. "This wood has been in my family store for centuries. Really since the beginning. We've maintained some special wood gifted to my family from the druids when they opened our shop 382 B.C. in exchange for several wands. Knowing how special the wood is, we've kept the wood preserved and would only make a wand when appropriately inspired. This situation seemed to call for it. Especially knowing your connection to your own vine wand. It's been blessed by ancient druids and I think contains some of its own special magic."

"In fact," Gilford cut in with excitement. "The fates and this thread of life we're restoring were contemporaries with the druids that blessed this wood with their magic. We're hoping we can match the ancient magic Tom Riddle is using with some of our own."

Hermione looked on at the simple components but felt the raw power. "Is the thread ok?"

"It's been healed with phoenix tears," Dumbledore's voice spoke from behind them. "Fawkes' contribution to the cause."

"And now we're ready to meld the two together," Ollivander said. His own voice containing some childlike excitement. "This is only the second time I have made a wand with this wood, though I spent many formative years as an apprentice caring for it."

"I'm not sure I know what to say," Hermione said thinking about all the rare resources coming together to spare her a year of torment. She knew, of course, that there was much more at stake than just her well-being, however, the speed in which they'd set this plan in motion was not lost on her.

"When you're back you can help us write the textbook on all of this," Fiona said.

They all watched on as Ollivander lift the wand wood and core up with a hover charm. He seemed to wait for the two components to recognize each other and drift closer. "_Iunctura, qui facti sunt, resarcio_," he said moving his wand in intricate motions after each spell. The thread of life was enveloped by the vine wood and became a seamless piece of wood again. Blue light emanated from the wand tip and then it started to spin in the air like a compass needle finding true north. When it stopped it was pointing directly at Hermione. "It seems, the wand has chosen the witch," he said. "Vine wands are known to display these acts of selection. I think we've chosen the wood well." He gestured for Hermione to take it.

Stepping up with some trepidation, she reached for the wand, which then spun in the air to offer her the handle. As soon as she gripped it, she felt a warmth flow over her. To her amazement, the bruises and welts on her wrists seemed to fade in the wake of the magic. She also sensed her other healing injuries were knitting together. The power was humbling. She looked to her headmaster, who was positively beaming.

"I think that will do," he said to Ollivander. "Come, Hermione. We have some things to discuss and then I shall return you to Fiona to discuss the spells you will need and the time turner instructions."

"Should I leave the wand?" she asked, hoping to keep it.

"It's yours now," Ollivander told her. "I think you'll both take good care of each other."

Dumbledore ushered her to a nearby library. It was a room she hadn't seen before. "It's my personal collection," he explained. "I'll make sure my past self lets you spend some time recuperating in here."

"That would be appreciated. Do you know what Tom is doing?" she asked, feeling some urgency.

"I believe Professor Snape and I have worked that out. I debated whether or not to tell you as we don't know how to counter this curse and there isn't a defense we can teach you," he said seriously.

"Tell me," she said and then remembered herself. "Please. I think the not knowing will make it worse."

"Curiously, that was Professor Snape's assessment as well. We think he's planting an umbra inside of you. A shadow of darkness that he could one day control. Mr. Riddle is using a containment potion to keep the umbra quarantined until he's ready to let it loose. It seems your relationship with Harry has changed?" his question caught her by surprise and she hadn't really followed the leap in logic. Still she nodded. "I believe he set some things in motion so that you and Mr. Potter would become close, and at a time of his choosing, I think he intends to use this umbra to get to Harry and possibly the Order."

This revelation left her shaken. She searched for a chair to sit down in. "I won't hurt him or any member of the Order. I can't hurt Harry. How do we protect him?"

"We don't have a magical solution," Dumbledore confessed. "Though I do have some experience with the containment draught," he continued and held up his blackened hand. "Snape keeps a store of it for me."

"You've been cursed?" she asked, her concern evident and her situation momentarily forgotten.

Dumbledore sighed. "Unfortunately, I did this to myself. Voldemort has a ring—"

At the mention of the ring, Hermione's hand came up to rub a now healed injury. "Tom wears it. It cut me when he hit me. A black stone with a crest of some sort."

"Yes, exactly, Miss Granger. He wore the ring in his youth, but cursed it sometime after he rose to power. I found it the Saturday before this school year started in his mother's former home. For reasons I'd rather not explain, I put it on."

"And Professor Snape has kept it contained?" she asked studying the injury.

"For now," he said but did not elaborate. "This curse, this umbra, is different. We don't know what Voldemort has planned. Whatever the reason, Tom Riddle wants it contained. For now," he repeated his ominous words and the pair sat to think about the possibilities.

In her gut she knew what the nonmagical solution was, "I need to stay away from Harry. Or maybe its best that I don't come back to this time."

"Ms. Granger," he started and sat next to her. "While I find your willingness to sacrifice admirable, I don't know that it is necessary. You see, the biggest blind spot Voldemort possesses is that he underestimates the power of love. If you love him, I don't believe the umbra's effects will have any real power on your actions. I recommend you proceed as if this curse did not exist and, in the meantime, Severus and I will see if we can cleanse it."

She nodded and looked down at the new… ancient… wand in her hand. They might just pull off the impossible in time travel, there may be a solution for the umbra. "Is it possible the curse isn't complete? He's been in mind several times."

"That is also a possibility, and you may just stop the process tonight. Making this conversation irrelevant," he said and then smiled. "A sensation I suspect you'll need to get used to in your upcoming travels. Now, let's go check in with Fiona and get you up to speed on her modifications."

~~/~~

The final preparations took longer than Hermione planned, and she was running late for lunch. When she came running around the corner of the entrance to the south tower, she stopped short. Harry was leaning against the wall. He straightened when he saw her. "All alright?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said breathing heavy, clutching a stitch in her side. "I was just late and didn't want you to think I blew you off."

Leaning over, Harry picked up a brown bag and motioned to the stairs. "I just grabbed sandwiches and salads. I hope that's alright?"

Looping her arm around his, they started up the stairs. "Sounds perfect. I'm hungry."

When he looked at her face, she seemed to be in a much different space than she had been the last time they talked. She seemed upbeat. There was still tension, but there was hope underlining the it all. He was curious to learn what had gone on in the span of a few hours that had led to such a change.

"What?" she asked, noticing him studying her. They reached the top of the stairs and Harry started setting out the food. Hermione conjured a soft blanket to sit on.

"You seem different," he said and sat, waiting for her to join him.

"A lot has happened. I have so much to tell you," she said grabbing a sandwich. Between bites she filled him in on the wand and the time turner. She let him examine the new wand. They spend more time discussing the time turner and how it will work.

Harry couldn't help but feel hopeful himself. It was almost enough to make him forget about the conversation they came to the south tower to have.

"There's something else," she said, setting down her pumpkin juice. "In a weird way, its connected to the other conversation we need to have. I'm not sure where to start."

Harry leaned back against the wall and waited for her to collect her thoughts. He didn't want to rush her.

"Dumbledore and Snape think they know what Tom is doing to me," she started with the easier conversation. If a dark shadow that could be used to control her mind to hurt or even kill her boyfriend was the easier of the two conversations, she wasn't sure what that said about her current state of mind. After explaining the umbra to him she paused. "You figured this out."

"Professor Slughorn thought this might be what Tom was doing. I was only able to explain the potion," Harry explained. "I had breakfast with him." Harry was about to tell Hermione that he got the final memory Dumbledore sought when she continued.

"They think Tom is planting it in my head to control it someday… to hurt you."

This was a new spin. He and his professor had speculated possible motives. None of their guesses had involved Harry. "They don't know how to remove it?" is wasn't really a question, at least not one that he needed answered. When she shook her head he suddenly understood. "You think we need to stop seeing each other." Harry thought he knew the argument they were going to have that afternoon, but he didn't have a counter point ready for this one, other than he didn't care.

"I thought that was the answer at first. Or just staying in the past," she confessed. "Dumbledore had another idea. He thinks Voldemort can't truly understand the umbra and that it can't make me hurt someone I love." The word hung in the air. "I guess I decided, like this other thing we need to talk about, this isn't just my decision to make."

Harry motioned her to come sit next to him. "And can we talk about the other thing?" he asked as she settled against him.

She took a deep, shaky breath. "I need you to do me a favor."

"Name it."

"I need to just get this all out before you say anything, and I need you to understand I know this is an emotional response, not a logical one."

"You're allowed to have an emotional response," he said.

"Just this once," she agreed hastily and decided to jump right in. "I don't think this will surprise you, I'm a virgin. I don't have much experience with the other stuff either. Last night, he made me… he didn't rape me, but he touched me, he used the cruciatus curse, and made me like it. He made me beg him to kiss me, to curse me. I either had to beg him to use the passion spell or he'd threaten to put the hex on me again. So I let him, I asked for it… and I liked it." She tried to keep the emotion out of her voice, but it was no use. "I'm afraid you won't want to touch me knowing I like him touching me…"

"Hermione," he started and remembered her request. "Can I talk now?" When she nodded he continued. "I don't think I'm going to say anything you don't already know. Maybe if you hear it from me, you'll start to believe the truth. Having a physical response, especially one forced on you through magic, does not mean you liked it. You may have even liked the feeling, that doesn't mean you enjoyed the way it was happening to you. The only reason I would not want to touch you was if you didn't want me to touch you. If you're never comfortable again being touched like that, by me, I'll still love you however you'll let me love you."

Before he could say another word, she was kissing him. When they broke apart, she rested her forehead on his. "Thank you," she said.

He moved and kissed her forehead. "We should probably go and get everything ready in the room of requirement. Some practice with those spells wouldn't hurt either."

~~/~~

The small classroom Fiona, Gilford, and Ollivander had been using as a research lab was filling up. Dumbledore and McGonagall deep in discussion about specific dates that would have strategic importance for Hermione's jumps. Each time they settled on one, they would give the information to Fiona and Hermione to work out the calculations on the closest workbench. Gilford and Ollivander were at the second discussion wand theory, their work was done, but they wanted to see the night through. Harry, Ron, and Ginny tried to help where they could… taking notes, ready to run the final calculations up to the room of requirement. The time turner, two wands, a letter to Dumbledore, and a rough draft of her jumps and number of turns were all securely in place in the secret drawer. Hermione wasn't keeping up with the significance of each of the dates and would have to go back and reread the notes when she was safe after the first jump forward. The calculations and variables she was working through with Fiona were too complex for her to think about the extraneous details.

"This is the last one," Dumbledore said, giving them the last date. This one Hermione knew. "We can't stress enough that your task during these specific dates is to observe and collect information only. You can't change history."

She handed the date to Fiona, and looked at Harry while she spoke, "October 29, 1981. That will only give me two days to recover. Where do you want me?"

The look of pain gave her the answer she needed. "Goddrich's Hollow. And it might be best if you go alone for that one. Have you apparated?"

"Yes, but I haven't taken the test," she told him.

"You'll have time to practice. Maybe we should add one more date? August 26, 1991?" he suggested with a smile. "Perhaps you can watch your sorting ceremony and take pride in how far a young Gryffindor can come in six years?"

She nodded and handled the calculations for that date, while Fiona handled the 1981 jump. When they were done, Hermione put the parchments in a small pouch and handed it to Ron. He and Ginny had volunteered to run to the room of requirement with the final items for the drawer.

"Wait," Harry said, stopping the pair in their tracks. "I have one more thing to add to the pouch."

Hermione was confused, and watched him pull out the small bottle filled with golden potion. "Harry, I can't take that."

"You can," he said, noting Ron didn't hesitate to take the bottle. "You may not need it. In case there's a situation that requires some extra luck, I want to know you have this."

She nodded, Ron and Ginny took off for the seventh floor, and she smiled. "Thanks." With all the immediate tasks completed, Hermione started to feel the butterflies. She moved to sit. "I just need to get to the drawer. He won't be expecting it. I'll stun him, destroy the thread of life, and run." Repeating the plan helped her settle her mind.

"Right. And then eleven jumps through the future at 270 million meters per second and fifty-two years later, you'll be back," he said wryly. He didn't like how rushed everything had been, but it had to be done before Tom escalated his attacks.

"Piece of cake," she said and took his hand. "It should be a couple hours for you. If our math is right and nothing goes wrong."

"Your math is right," Harry said. "So don't let anything go wrong."

When an alarm sounded, signaling the alignment had begun, she stood and faced Harry. "Come back to me," he told her. And then she was gone.


	7. From the Ashes

**A/N: **Thanks blacksbear and Jessi Granger! Your reviews keep me motivated. As promised here's the second post for this weekend. I hope this starts to make up for all the trauma in the earlier chapters.

**Chapter 7: From the Ashes**

**January 16, 1944**

"Welcome back," Tom said, wand out. "You know the drill. Hands on the table."

She didn't move. If she got chained up or tied up the entire time the plan wasn't going to work. Having analyzed all of her encounters, the only times he dared to turn his back on her while she was unrestrained was when he had beat her to a point where he was certain she couldn't fight back. Compliance may just get her tied to a chair, unable to get her wand. Best case, he would hit her standing next to the table and take out some anger right there on the ground. In front of the secret compartment. She had to provoke him on the spot.

"I said, hands on the table," he repeated and walked forward. When he was close enough, she brought her knee up and connected with his groin. He went down on one knee.

She tried to step back. Before she could, his hand shot out, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her down. There was a force behind the move that was more than just physical. Pain left her momentarily stunned. After struggling to his feet, he slapped her. Again, his anger fueled his magic. A wall of pressure followed his hand, throwing her to the ground. "Bitch. You think I won't hurt you because we had one night where I showed you a good time?"

"I didn't want—" her protests were cut short by a kick to sternum.

"You wanted it. You begged for it!" he yelled and straddled her. His hands wrapped around her throat. He started to squeeze. Her fingers scratched at his hands, drawing blood. He howled in pain and slammed her head against the stone ground. Hermione was seeing stars. Still, she was able to track his feet as they moved around the table, likely to get some horrific instrument from his rack. Moving fast, she crawled to the drawer and pulled out her wand with the dragon heartstring core. Thinking through the plan with a level head, she had decided using her original wand was the safest course of action. The new wand was still relatively untested and she would likely only get one shot to incapacitate Tom.

Hermione sat up, her back against the table, wand obscured by her pant leg. _Step 1 of 500_ she thought to herself. Her vision was blurry. It was hard to breath. There was no turning back. She didn't have long to wait, his feet appeared again. Leaning over her, he grabbed a handful of her shirt, hoisted her up, and brought a knife to her throat. The edge was sharp, it bit her skin. His eyes were wild with rage and she was certain he was going to kill her. She was insanely grateful for Snape's lessons on nonverbal spells. Tom never saw the wand aimed at him. Everything seemed to freeze when the stunning spell hit him. He still had a firm grasp on her shirt. When he went down, she went with him.

With great effort, she freed herself. Standing she wondered how long she would have. Deciding she didn't want to take any chances she bound him tight with a binding spell and blind folded him with another. It was satisfying to use the spells against him for a change. Moving to his table she saw the star maps and a small glass box in the center of the bench. The thread of life glowed like the moon. For a beat she wondered if something terrible would happen to her if she destroyed it. It didn't matter, she couldn't spend another day under his control and she couldn't risk any other student. "_Deleo_," she said. It disappeared in a small puff of smoke. Waiting, she realized nothing happened to her. It seemed anticlimactic. Turning, Tom was still unmoving. She reached over him to grab the second wand, the time turner, the letter to Dumbledore and the small pouch that contained the calculations, a watch and the liquid luck. Before closing the drawer, she also saw McGonagall's ring that had been placed there for testing. Grabbing the ring, she studied it a briefly and slipped it on. Drawing courage from the connection.

Hermione pushed the drawer closed and ran to the exit. Turning, she launched another stunning spell at the still form for good measure. There was still so much time left for the alignment. She paused to consider getting into the hidden room. What if he had another thread and he used it to take Ginny. Should she stay in the room until the alignment was over and then go to Dumbledore? No one had considered this scenario where she was able to incapacitate him so quickly… that she _had_ to incapacitate him so quickly. The star map hung on the wall across the room. Crossing the room again in three long strides, she grabbed the enchanted document. Then she considered Tom, motionless on the floor. Knowing she had to keep him focused on her, she leaned over him and whispered in his ear. "I destroyed your thread of life. I know this means I'm stuck here, but it's my only option. You can try to find me if you want to waste your time," she said, the silence was disconcerting. Satisfied that this information would keep him busy searching for her when he was released, she ran.

She knew the path to her destination very well. Professor McGonagall was generous with her office hours and Hermione took advantage of every opportunity to learn from such an experienced witch. In this time, that office was Dumbledore's. He had to be there. She prayed he was. When she burst through his door without knocking, her heart sank a little at the empty office. The lights were lit, he was close.

Hermione pondered her next steps. She certainly had time, Tom wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Not if she was close. She suspected her spells would break as soon as she made her first jump.

"Can I help you?" a voice asked from behind her.

She jumped, spun around and saw a shocked, younger Dumbledore standing in the doorway. His hair was short and showed no grey. His beard neatly trimmed. Seeing him standing there, a young man, left her momentarily speechless. His eyes were unchanged, a few less wrinkles, but kindness swirling in his blue eyes as he studied her. Guessing she looked a mess, she glanced down. Blood had trickled down from the cut on her neck left by the knife, or maybe the blood was from her nose which was likely broken. Her shirt was ripped at the collar where she had freed herself. Her jeans were torn at the knee from its impact with the ground. Unsure what to say, she held out the missive written for him, by him. "Please lock your door and don't let Tom Riddle in until you've read that letter," she said trying to decide if she should stay or jump.

"Who are you?" Dumbledore asked, concerned for the young girl who was injured, yet weary of a student he didn't recognize.

Deciding it was best to draw out the alignment as long as she could, she motioned to the door. "Could you lock it please? In case he comes here," the worry in her voice was real, she didn't have to sell her fear.

He moved to a large leather chair, "Why don't you sit down and collect yourself. Are you hurt beyond that cut and your nose?" he asked, deciding she wasn't a threat.

Hermione's hand came up and rubbed her chest. That kick had done damage but it wasn't important to her. "Nothing life threatening," she said and moved cautiously to the chair. The new leather groaned under her small frame.

"Hm," he said. Letting her know he was still concerned about her and didn't quite trust her medical assessment. Pointing his wand at his door, he locked it as requested and pulled up his own chair across from her. His brow furrowed at the wax seals securing the letter closed. It was the Hogwarts' seal at one corner and his family's coat of arms at the other. Breaking the wax, he started with the first page. It didn't take long for him to look at her with some disbelief and astonishment. He continued to read, moving to the second page, but stopped before flipping to the third. "That's probably all I need to know to help you right now," he told her and got up to get a drink.

After he picked up a generous pour of whiskey, he walked over to a small cabinet. Pulling out two hand towels, he walked back to his chair, moving it closer to hers. Sitting he took a long drink and set the glass down to free up his wand hand. Dumbledore soaked one towel with warm water pulled from the air with his wand. He reached out to clean up the wound on her neck. "Stay still, I need to see how bad this cut is," he instructed sensing her stiffen at the unexpected touch. He was relieved to see the cut was superficial. In silence, he moved to examine her nose and grimaced at her small cry of pain. "Sorry, that's broken," he informed her and used an _episkey_ charm to repair it as gently as he could. "That bruise doesn't look good," he told her pointing to the purple and black mark visible where her shirt was torn. She turned her head to glance at the door as if expecting for thing terrible to come crashing through it. He saw the blood on the side of her head, matting her hair. Grabbing the second towel, he summoned ice cubes from a bucket near his desk and wrapped the towel tight around them. Handing her the makeshift ice pack he explained, "For your head."

The pair sat in silence for several heartbeats.

"So, let me summarize," he started. "You're from 1997. In your time, I'm the headmaster at Hogwarts. Tom Riddle has managed to pull you back through time by harnessing ancient magic, taking advantage of celestial positioning, and channeling it all through the come and go room. He's committed very serious acts of violence and the only safe course of action was to strand you here in my time, equipped with instruments needed to jump forward into the future in increments of time."

"He fit all of that in the first two pages, did he?" Hermione said with some humor.

"Apparently I'm concise in the future. I've also been informed that you're not the most cooperative patient."

She finally smiled, "That really sounds more like page five material."

They both laughed, causing Hermione to clutch her chest in confirmation of the older Dumbledore's assessment.

"Where is Mr. Riddle now?"

"I stunned him. He's still in the room of requirement."

"And your plan tonight?"

She put the ice pack in her lap and bit her lip. "If I jump to tomorrow, my spells will be broken. I don't think he can pull anyone else back but I can't leave here until I know for sure. The plan was to hide out in the room of requirement tomorrow. There's too much time left tonight. I didn't know what to do."

Dumbledore brought his hand up to smooth his beard as he thought. "How much time does he have tonight if he could pull someone back?"

She took out the star map and looked at a clock on the wall. "At least three hours."

"I'm guessing I couldn't convince you to get some rest?"

She shook her head.

"Uncooperative," he said under his breath as he stood. "Then I'm going to make you some tea, and we're going to take care of those ribs."

Next her sat Fawkes, perched on an ornate rod. He looked at her with interest. A small pile of ash lingered under him. Evidence of a recent rebirth. She couldn't help but feel as if she was experiencing a rebirth herself. The fear was still very real, the sense of freedom was quickly replacing it. She took the moment to rest her head on the back of the chair and closing her eyes. It was really almost over. The thread was destroyed. She just needed to get through the night, test the jump timing and affects, make her first big jump. "Then eleven jumps at two hundred and seventy million meters per second and fifty-two years later," she repeated Harry's words under her breath.

"What's that?" Dumbledore asked handing her a cup of warm, herbal tea.

"Nothing, just something someone is going to tell me fifty years from now… or an hour ago," she said. "Time travel is complicated."

"Tell me about it. Lay down on the couch," he told her.

Hermione struggled to stand, and finally let him help her. "Adrenaline must be wearing off," she admitted, walking stiffly to the couch. Dumbledore followed her closely to help if she needed it. As she turned to sit, he braced her back and arm to control her speed.

Dumbledore sat on the edge of a coffee table next to the couch and dug in a black bag for potions. "If I'm going to help you, I need you to be honest about your injuries. I'm not the best healer; however, we can't risk damage to the timeline by allowing you to interact with our matron. You're stuck with just me for the next fifty-two years."

She knew he was right, and she would think better if her head and chest pain weren't so intense. "Kicked me here," she said patting her chest just below her collar bones. "Punched my face and slammed my head against the ground."

"And the bruises around your neck?"

"I don't remember. It's a little fuzzy. My wrist hurts too, I don't know why," she said lifting her left hand and revealing a swollen joint also surrounded by finger shaped bruises. "I guess that's why."

Shaking his head, he helped her lay on her back. Grabbing the discarded ice pack, he put it between her head and the pillow.

"You should see the other guy. Well, actually you won't be able to see where my knee made contact," she admitted. "Should have kicked him a few more times."

Dumbledore got to work, keeping an eye on the door. He wasn't really sure what he would do if Tom showed up. He already suspected the boy was dabbling with the dark arts but he couldn't prove it. The accusation alone would have been serious. So he chose to keep an eye on his activities and an ear to the ground. If Tom showed up looking for Hermione, just based on the damage he'd seen so far, Dumbledore feared he might get fired for beating a student. His future self mentioned a detailed medical record had been attached at the end to understand the mental state of his ward and to keep an eye out for long term effects of her injuries. He hadn't gotten that far yet and wanted another drink or two before he got to that page.

As she started to drift to sleep under his ministrations, he wanted nothing more than to let her escape to oblivion but knew there was more at stake. "Hey, Hermione. We still have an hour," he said pulling out an invigoration draught. "Here just take a sip. This will keep you awake until we're sure it's safe. How do you feel?"

"Better, thanks," she said. Sitting up she rolled her neck and tested her wrist. "Really."

"Great," he said smiling. He was already starting to like the girl. Thinking about everything he already knew about Tom Riddle, guilt was creeping in. There were always doubts that he had done the right thing by bringing Riddle to Hogwarts to learn magic. He reminded himself that the alternative was to let him steal from and torment his fellow orphans with no control over his abilities. "Let me get you more tea and I need to finish this letter. Help yourself to the bookshelf if you'd like." The joy that lit up her face confirmed his growing fondness was well placed.

Picking up the letter, he subtly noted her selection. _Wand Making and Wandlore_, was a very old book written by Geraint Ollivander. An interesting choice he thought. His curiosity got the better of him and he skipped to her medical record. Her matron had recorded the spells used on her either by Tom Riddle or by the healer herself. It was a very long list, and likely not comprehensive. The number of cruciatus curses alone made him sick. There was a hex he didn't recognize that he planned to look up. And then he got to the night before and stood up.

Hermione looked over at him, watched him physically push the parchment away. When she stood, he looked up at her. There was anger in his eyes, but it soften to concern and then sadness. She never really saw this side of her headmaster. Moving to the desk she looked down at the offending text and stood up straighter. "Why would he give you that information?" she demanded feeling violated. An accounting of any night's torture would have been fine with her. That night was different. Seeing the record of the passion spells listed crossed a line.

"Hermione," he started to move toward her. To explain why he had the information.

"Stop. Just don't. Let me think," she said holding up her hand. "I'm going to be sick," she announced and spotted a trash can.

Unable to just stand back and watch her suffer, he grabbed a glass of water and a fresh, damp towel. By the time he reached her, she was on her knees sobbing. Sliding in, he caught her before she fell back and held her there on the floor. Letting her release the pent-up emotion. "You're ok, you're safe now. I won't let him touch you again," he vowed. Putting the wet cloth on her forehead he cradled her there on the floor until she drifted to sleep. He was confident they had waited long enough, and she needed the time to disconnect from the trauma.

Once he was sure she was sleeping soundly, he lifted her from the ground and moved to a cot he had set up in the corner of the room for his late-night reading. He watched her for a beat to make sure she didn't wake and then grabbed a book from the shelf. _Ancient Runes, Hexes, and Dark Marks,_ he had just picked it up over the holiday break and hadn't read it yet. Flipping through he found the rune he was looking for, _ior_, the serpent. A symbol of unavoidable hardships and dual natures. Tom hadn't just marked her, he hexed her with a consuming curse that, if left alone, would grow and destroy her soul.

Moving to check her arm, he was interrupted by a knock on his door. The sound startled Hermione awake. Dumbledore brought a finger up to his lips and opened a coat closet. He pulled out an invisibility cloak and put it over her. "Stay still and don't make a sound," he said. Putting the book he held back on the shelf, he grabbed a more mundane book about common transfiguration. He rubbed his hand through his hair, messing it up. A wave of his wand caused the bloody towels and ice pack to disappear. The letter and medical records folded themselves. The star chart flew across the room to a bottom drawer of his desk. Lastly, he sent the water glass onto his desk. Satisfied all of the traces of Hermione were out of sight he walked to the door. When he opened it, he moved to rub sleep out of his eyes.

"Mr. Riddle," he said, smoothing his beard. "It's quite late…or maybe early?"

"Professor Dumbledore, I'm sorry for the early hour. I was taking a morning walk and Peeves got me," he said, holding up his hands to reveal long scratches. "I saw the light on under your door and thought I could escape here for a minute to make sure the coast is clear?"

"Of course," Dumbledore said moving aside to let him in. He motioned to the couch. "Do you want me to take a look at those scratches?"

Tom was looking around the room, clearly searching for Hermione.

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. "Mr. Riddle, do you think I'm harboring a poltergeist?"

"No, sir. No, of course not. I guess I'm just jumpy?" he said, back up. "Maybe if I move quickly, I can get down to the common room before he finds me again."

"You're welcome to stay. You can practice up on your transfigurations for your N.E.W.T.s?" he said waving his book.

"No, sir. I was probably overreacting. Sorry to bother you," he said turning on his heels and exiting the office as quickly as he could without drawing attention to his urgency.

Dumbledore walked over to the door, closed it, and locked it again. Hermione was already crawling out from under the cloak when he turned around. "It seems he's lost something," he said. "Why don't you hang on to that cloak for now. I just picked it up and it should last while you need it. I've had an interest in invisibly cloaks and have several on hand. We've got a lot to accomplish today. Why don't you get a bit more sleep? I need to finish the letter and then I'll used an extension charm on my closet to make you a safe space. Under the circumstances, I think some law breaking is warranted."

Hermione wanted to protest, but knew she needed some real sleep. "Could you wake me when you perform the extension charm? I'd like to understand how it works?"

He smiled conspiratorially. "Only if you promise to use this knowledge for good?" When she nodded and he clapped his hands together. "Alright then. Sleep and we'll make our plans for tonight."

**Monday, January 17, 1944**

Dumbledore sat in contemplation watching Hermione sleep. Her exhaustion had been so thorough that she hadn't moved a muscle since drifting off. Considering waking her, he worried she would be stiff when she woke. Glancing back at the letter, he resisted the urge to protect her. His future self made an eloquent argument for the ability and fortitude she had displayed. Coupled with the fact that she had just spent the past week and a half operating with little control over herself, the older Dumbledore urged him to treat her like a colleague. An equal that could not only take care of herself, but contribute to the cause in a very meaningful way. The younger Dumbledore had faith in that assessment, he also could not ignore the medical charts. Tom Riddle had committed grievous crimes, he needed to be held accountable. And yet, there was no way that would be possible without presenting Hermione to the authorities and corrupting the timeline. It was maddening.

Figuring that he just needed to take the strange situation one moment at a time, he gently rung a small bell on his desk.

A house elf appeared. Her long ears were perked up, and she greeted him with a smile and a slight bow. "Master Albus," she said, using his first name as instructed. When she straightened, her eyes slid to the sleeping girl in the cot and back to Dumbledore.

"Hello, Gerty. I need a favor," he began.

"Anything for you Master Albus," she said earnestly.

Dumbledore pointed to Hermione. "This is a friend of mine that will be visiting. It's important that no one knows she's here. Not even the Headmaster," he said.

The house elf nodded, she didn't much care for Headmaster Dippet and always appreciated how kind Dumbledore was to her and the other house elves.

"Could you bring us some breakfast? I'd like the two of you to meet and I suspect she'll be very hungry when she wakes."

"Of course, sir. I'll go and get two plates and will be back quickly," she said and disappeared.

Dumbledore stood and walked to the cot. He didn't want to wake her, yet he made a promise and he decided to take his future self at his word that this young woman was not fragile. "Hermione?" he said. When she didn't stir, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

Hermione opened her eyes with a start, but to her credit she recovered quickly after registering who had woken her. She rubbed her face, and pushed herself up into a seated position. "What time is it?"

"Nearly 8:00," he told her and offered her a glass of water. "You've been asleep for about 4 hours. How do you feel?"

She sipped the water and considered her injuries. "A little sore. I've definitely felt worse."

Opening his mouth to speak, Dumbledore was interrupted by the return of the house elf. "Hermione Granger, please meet Gerty. Gerty is in charge of the kitchens here and she's going to help you if you ever need her," he explained.

Gerty balanced two overflowing plated and nodded at Hermione. She offered them each a plate and smiled. "Just ring that bell," she said, pointing to the small silver bell on Dumbledore's desk. "And I'm come right away Master Granger."

"You can call me Hermione," she corrected. "And thank you for breakfast."

The small creature beamed and nodded her head. "Anytime Master Hermione."

"Just Hermione," she said but Gerty was gone before she heard the instruction. She looked up at Dumbledore considering. "I've never cared for that system of servitude. I have been forced to acknowledge some house elves prefer it to their freedom. That doesn't mean I have to treat them like slaves."

"Indeed," he agreed and sat down to eat. "As soon as we make the extension charm, we'll fashion a bathroom so you can shower and get cleaned up. I'm guessing you didn't think to leave yourself a travel bag in the come and go room?"

Shaking her head, she looked down at her torn and bloody shirt. "We didn't think about that detail."

"If you leave me your sizes, I'll make sure to get some for the next time I see you."

When they were both done eating, Dumbledore motioned to the coat closet. "I emptied it out while you slept. Now the extension charm is quite complicated, which limits the number of witches and wizards capable of breaking the law. With the exception of luggage and tents, extension charms aren't generally permitted. However, as I said, I believe this situation calls for some rule breaking," he was in full professor mode and Hermione was enjoying the moment. She listened to the theory behind the spell and the necessary preparations that must be done in advance. Then he rehearsed the spell with her. "Would you like to give it a go?" he asked.

She was surprised and excited to try. Considering her options, she took out the wand with the thread of life core. It felt so natural in her hand.

"The dangers of getting this wrong are minimal, but they can impact the space around the area you are trying to extend," he said, continuing to instruct. "Luckily for us, next door is an empty classroom so do not concern yourself with getting it wrong the first go around."

Hermione concentrated and tested the movement first. Once she felt she had it down, she concentrated on exactly what size she needed the room to be and said "_Extensio spatium_." When nothing happened she shook her head and squared her shoulders. In the end it took three tries and gentle correction from Dumbledore before a small room grew out from the closet.

"Very good, Ms. Granger!" he said with enthusiasm. "I'd be embarrassed to tell you how many times I tried this spell before I… well, that's a story for another day," he said and waved his hand making a small room off to the side of the new space. Once complete, he conjured a shower, bath, toilet, and sink. Moving to the main room, he fashioned her a bed and a small nightstand. Finally, he made a façade of a closet that would appear if the door was opened without using the correct combination on the outer panel and finally a glass on the other side that reflected his office so she could always be certain it was safe to come out. "If you think of anything else you need, let me know. I'll leave you to get comfortable while I go and check on Mr. Riddle this morning."

Hermione watched him leave and turned to the bookshelf to grab the Ollivander book again. She wanted to read up more on her new wand wood after her shower.

~~/~~

_While vine remains an untraditional selection for wand making amongst the more mainstream witches and wizards, the Druids contend that by limiting our definition of wood to trees with large trunks, we miss other magic that nature presents to us. Curiously, not all Druids carry these unconventional wands. What I have discovered is that the wand chooses the wizard. Despite the desire of a Druid to carry a vine wand, some have left my store with a much different wand in the end. In the same way, I have seen vine wands jump the moment a person they selected has entered the store. On these rare instances, I have found that no other wand will suit that person or work properly. Due to these special instances, we here at Ollivander's have chosen to stock only a limited number of vine wands so as to not deplete our stores of the gifted, blessed vine. The remaining wood has been painstaking preserved and have chosen the care of this wood to be the first real responsibility granted to our next generation apprentices. We hope to instill the seriousness of the task before them and test their dedication to, at times, the most mundane aspects of wandmaking._

_As for the cores that have been compatible with vine wands, all known components have worked, but I have found dragon heartstring and threads of life to produce the best results. The witch or wizard that carry such wands have been those that have contributed the greatest advances to our understanding of the boundaries of magical capacity. Dragon heartstring of course offer power, which coupled with vine is capable of producing magic that is unexpected and profound. As to the thread of life, these cores have been decreasing in availability with the passing of the third Fate. She was the weaver of the thread and no one has been able to replicate the success she enjoyed. Some claim this is due to the secrecy of the process, but having communed with all three sisters, I am of the belief that this was such rare magical talent we will never find a witch capable of such complex spells. Indeed, the remaining two sisters themselves attempted to learn Clotho's craft before her passing. When they were unsuccessful, they searched across all continents to find someone with the skill to weave the thread. We may never really know the capacity a vine wand with a thread of life could accomplish. As magic slowly advances, I fear the power available in a vine wand with a thread of life core, will not be provided the opportunity to truly find the limit of its power._

Hermione closed the book and studied the vine wand with the thread of life core. She hoped Geraint Ollivander was correct, because she still viewed her task ahead as an impossible feat. She would know by tomorrow if their theories were sound, and if she was capable of withstanding the forces required to move her forward in time. Standing, she worked out the stiffness that lingered in her muscles. She took mental inventory of her possessions needed to spy on Tom and those necessary for her jump. There was an anxiousness that was driving her to go to the room of requirement as soon as possible. She wasn't sure when he may retreat there, and she had to admit there was a possibility he wouldn't go that night at all. However, she knew time was literally the only thing she had in abundance and would wait in this time as long as she needed to ensure his ability to steal from the future was over.

Hearing movement in the outer office, Hermione looked through the glass and saw Dumbledore was alone. She opened to door to join him.

"Mr. Riddle will be in a double potion's class for the next two hours, and Professor Slughorn tells me he has a meeting scheduled with him immediately following class. I think the coast will be clear for you to head up whenever you want to. It may be a long night though, and I'd recommend waiting at least until the end of his class," he explained. Looking Hermione over, he noted she had used a repairing charm and cleaning spell to refresh her clothing. Her hair was a little unruly, but he thought, perhaps it was always a little frazzled. He didn't get the impression that she was overly concerned with maintaining a polished appearance if the time required kept her from more important priorities. It added to her charm.

"That makes sense," she said, replacing the book she carried on the shelf and surveyed to other titles. She wanted a good book to read while she waited. "Do you know if it's possible he could get another thread of life?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I consulted with a close, personal friend at the ministry. They did admit to me that one thread went missing about fifty years ago. All other known threads are accounted for. They've placed added security around them. They did inform me of some curious notations in their Tempus Scriptum but have not gathered enough information to put the pieces together yet. In the future, as the changes accumulate, we may need to schedule a meeting with one of the witan. If for no other reason than their curiosity. They take very seriously their strict codes that are in place to preserve the timeline."

She nodded and did not object. Perhaps it would occur far enough in the future that it would be Fiona or Gilford that would come calling. Then she remembered that the Fiona and Dumbledore had attended Hogwarts at the same time. "Is your friend Fiona Fielding?" she asked.

"As a matter of fact, she is. You two have met?" he asked but Hermione hesitated to confirm. Dumbledore already knew more than any wizard should about the future. She needed to be more disciplined in the information she let slip. Dumbledore understood the silence. The weight of the responsibility on him now that he knew such details of the future was already significant. "Well she'll be instrumental in advising us on critical changes to ensure we don't alter too many events."

"Professor," Hermione said, changing the subject. "I wondered, I will still have my N.E.W.T.s to take when I get back. The week between jumps, could I impose on you to tutor me. I know I can't attend classes."

Now he smiled. "You're about to make wizarding history, I suspect your performance on the exam will not be faulted if you don't exceed expectations on all subjects. But of course. I'll make a study plan."

With that settled, the pair returned to their books and waited for potions class to end.


	8. Escape Velocity

**A/N: **Thanks for everyone still following and reading! Special thanks to blacksbear, Jessi Granger, and Remisgirl for the reviews!

**Chapter 8: Escape Velocity**

**January 17-18, 1944**

Hermione moved through the hallways of Hogwarts under the guise of the invisibility cloak. Her heart was pounding painfully in her chest. She was on her own and willingly entering the room that had been turned against her so violently. Trusting that Tom was still in class, she stood outside the entrance. The hallway was empty. Summoning her courage, the strange red door appeared and swung open. Empty. Relief spurred her forward toward the hidden room. Settling in she was grateful for the comfortable chair the older Dumbledore fashioned in the tight spot. The wall in front of her became transparent. Then she waited.

As it turned out, she didn't have to wait long. Movement caught her attention away from the pages of her book. Tom Riddle walked purposefully through the room to his bench. She watched him shuffle through stacks of parchment. When they yielded him none of the answers he sought, he threw them out of his way. They scattered on the floor near the table.

Turning to the center of the room, he closed his eyes. She assumed he was calling for something from the room. A pedestal appeared in front of him. Hermione leaned forward to get a better look. Then he cast a scrying spell and she held her breath. He was looking for her.

Hermione closed her own eyes and made her own request of the room. To remain hidden and undetected. Riddle stood straight, scanning the room. Fear grew until his eyes settled on a spot near the large stone table. He leaned over and came up with a scrap of fabric from her shirt. Hermione leaned back and thanked the room for its protection.

The night continued, and she did her best to stay alert. As her eyes drifted shut, she shook her head and dug in her pocket for the waking potion Dumbledore insisted she carry with her. Pulling out the stopper she took a small sip. It just needed it to get her through a few more hours. She hoped. Tom had to be as exhausted as she was, still he continued to work. He alternated between trying to find another way to connect to the future and looking for her. As for the latter, every method he used continued to point to the room of requirement. He continued to dismiss the information.

Finally, as dawn approached, Tom gave up. With murder in his eyes, he gathered his school robes, his book bag, and headed to what she assumed was either breakfast or his room to get some sleep before his school day started. As planned, Hermione waited. She had agreed to wait until Tom's first class would begin before leaving the safety of her hiding spot. If Tom didn't show up for transfiguration, Dumbledore promised to send Gerty to warn her to stay put until they were certain she would be able to leave the room undetected.

As the time ticked down, Gerty never appeared. Hermione put on the invisibility cloak and left the safety of her hiding place. She stood a moment in the room, not really believing it was all about to be over. One test jump, then one longer jump, and she would be outside the window of time Tom Riddle would have access to the room or its magic.

Returning to Dumbledore's office, she gathered up everything she needed to take with her. Consulting the time turner notes, the first jump would simply be an eight-hour trip into the future. They would use that result to determine the time drift to understand the accuracy and assess the physical affects. If anything unexpected happened, Hermione would have to adjust the plan and calculations on the fly. That was a problem for later.

"Ms. Granger? Are you ready to make history?" Dumbledore asked as he entered his office. "Do you think that's the correct term?"

She smiled, "I'm trying not to think about the difference between the history and the future. But yes, I'm ready." She said and took out her new wand. With great concentration she performed the spell she rehearsed but hadn't practiced. A haze surrounded her, like waves of heat emanating from black top on a hot summer day, except this haze enveloped her from all sides. Staring at her watch, it was charmed to start counting the moment the envelope reached the target speed. Knowing the first calculation by heart, she got the time turner out and waited for the correct time. She turned the vertical axis one full rotation and the horizontal axis a half turn.

Feeling a sudden jerk, she worried she had performed the task incorrectly. Her head felt like a vice was squeezing it, pain was everywhere, and then it all stopped. She wobbled on the spot and would have fallen if strong arms hadn't reached out to steady her and move her to the soft cushions of the well-worn couch. "I'm going to be sick," she warned and started retching in an offered trash can. She was too disoriented to be embarrassed. "What's the date. The time?" She asked.

"You've jumped forward exactly eight hours and 5 minutes," Dumbledore told her.

Hermione leaned her head back against the couch, did some quick analysis. "That's not great, that's a one percent error in the time shift. That could create an twenty-day difference in the longer jumps."

Offering her some water, he stroked his beard in contemplation. "Well, the first jump's accuracy isn't critical. We can see if the error scales linearly and go from there. How do you feel?"

"Still a bit nauseous, a little dizzy. The actual jump was uncomfortable… like I was being squeezed from all sides, but it was manageable. Did I land in the same spot?"

He nodded, looking at the spot they marked on the floor. There was a last minute concern that she may not remain perfectly stationary when considering the rotation of the earth. It was a complex issue that they didn't have a solution for if it was a problem. They both looked relieved that it appeared she didn't need to be concerned about ending up in a wall or hundreds of feet above the ground.

"Alright then. Do you think I should jump in the closet room? In case the timing is off, then we don't need to worry about someone else being in your office with you?"

"I don't like it," he said with concern. "I don't what to worry that you jumped back without me knowing and have you injured out of sight."

"Well you can't just camp out in your office for twenty days in case I arrive," she reasoned. "Could we fashion an alarm or signal that you would get as soon as I'm back in the room?" She was thinking about a method similar to the coins the DA had used but wondered if he would have a better idea.

"I have a pocket watch we can enchant," he offered. "It's an added level of security as well. We can enchant it to ring as soon as someone is inside the room."

Satisfied, Hermione stood and let him set the enchantment. Opening the door, she stepped in and tested the system. Once it worked as planned, she took out her time turner instructions. "I'll get going then?" she asked, anxious to start moving back toward Harry and her time. Dumbledore seemed concerned about initiating another jump so quickly after the last, still, he understood her urgency. And she seemed steady on her feet.

He spread is hands wide. "I think we've thought of everything we can anticipate. Do you feel ready?"

She nodded and held up her wand again. She knew the turns of this jump by heart too. "I'll see you in five years, give or take twenty days, then?"

The same haze surrounded her as before. She had more time to adjust in the bubble and put her wand securely in her pocket. The watch on her left wrist started ticking. Even as she observed the numbers turning quickly, she thought about the mark on the underside of her forearm. There had been no time to address it as it wasn't a high priority. She'd ask Dumbledore to help her remove it when she saw him again. Then there was the umbra. Not a problem to fix like the mark; however, the uncertainty created anxiety. The longer the time passed, the harder it was to think, to breath. Pressure was building all around her. The pain in her head was screaming at her. Demanding that she move. Panic was setting in. Shadows were moving around her, just on the other side of the haze… they seemed to be pressing in, trying to penetrate the barrier. Tearing her eyes away from the apparitions, the watch was approaching her magical number. Taking up the time turner, she willed her brain to focus on the task of turning the correct axis, in the correct combination. It was an immense effort. She pictured Harry's face, his green eyes, his smile. Using those memories to remind her why it was so important that she not make an error. And then the pressure that was keeping her standing was gone. In an instance she was dropping to her knees, gasping for air.

The door in front of her swung open. Standing there was the man she was growing dependent on to keep her feel safe and grounded. "Hermione," Dumbledore said with urgency. He scooped her up and carried her out of the room to the open space of his office. As he laid her on the couch he saw she was still struggling to move air through her lungs. "Hermione, look at me and breath. You can do it. In and out." He placed her hand on his chest, trying to show her what to do. And then she was gasping, breathing heavily in and out. "Easy, smaller breaths. Breath in and hold it. That's it. Now a long breath out. Good." He coached her through the panic.

Her vision still swam, the nauseous feeling was intense. She swallowed back the muscle contractions that were urging her closer to vomiting again. Closing her eyes made it better. Like a terrible case of motion sickness, she waited for the word to stop swaying. "When?" she finally gasped out.

"Five years, one day, four hours and sixteen minutes," he said. "I think the seconds are a rounding error?"

Trying to do the math she couldn't quite manage it; it was closer than anticipated and that's all that mattered. The headache was still screaming from her forehead, around her temples, and down her neck. She needed it to stop and finally gave in to the darkness beckoning her, encouraging her to sleep. It worked. She survived it and it worked.

~~/~~

**January 19, 1949, Wednesday 10pm**

Dumbledore was shaken. In the months ifollowing her departure he constantly thought of her. Hoping her journey was safe. As the months changed to years, he had moments when he wondered if he would see her again. Of course he had proof it had happened. The letter, which he had studied so regularly he had to repair the parchment several times. The closet room, he and Gerty had stocked it with several changes of clothing, some person items, and of course many books he thought she would find interesting. After Tom Riddle graduated and went to work at Borgin and Burke's he breathed a little easier. When she returned, they would be hiding her from contaminating history, not out of fear for her safety.

Waving his wand over her, he took note of her vitals. It was a spell he took time to learn for this very reason. Though, truth be told, he wasn't sure he wouldn't seek out Matron Russel if his charged needed an experienced healer. At the moment, there were not major issues that would cause him to take such actions. She had some inflammation around her joints, her blood pressure was high, and her breathing was still irregular. All things that caused concern, considering what she had just accomplished, minor concerns. He thought about moving her to the closet room but wanted to keep an eye on her if anything changed.

So he sat, grading papers, keeping one eye on the still, sleeping form on his couch. After several papers on the theory governing human transfiguration, he caught a motion out of the corner of that eye. He stood to check her. "Ms. Granger?" he asked, watching her eyes flutter open. She groaned in pain. When she breathed in, she let out a small gasp of pain. Dumbledore checked her vitals again and grew concerned. In his youth he had spent some time diving during his summer break. The symptoms he was seeing were similar to decompression sickness. Depending on its severity, he knew her condition could be life threatening.

"Professor?" she said with a haze of confusion. "I'm not… something's not right?"

"I know, just hang on. You need some oxygen, and I'm going to use a hyperbaric spell to get you stabilized. There must have been immense pressure during your jump and you have gases that are building up in your joints. You're going to feel some pressure and then you'll feel better." He surrounded her with a cushion of air and manipulated the pressure inside. He watched her working her jaw, likely trying to get her ears to pop. Then she let out a breath of relief and settled against the couch. "Better?"

She nodded and let the treatment continue.

"You'll need to lie still for about 30 minutes and we'll reassess," he told her. Sliding a chair closer to the couch, he watched the vitals update on is parchment and set a small hourglass up.

They were silent for several minutes. Hermione watched him turn his wand thoughtfully between his fingers. "That's a new wand," she observed. Dumbledore looked up in surprise. "It looks like… is it elder wood?" When he didn't respond, she grew uncomfortable. "I'm sorry if I'm out of line. It's just that I read your book yesterday… well, when I was waiting for Tom. I was interested in knowing about the vine wood my new wand was made from and it was in the rare wood section."

He gave her a smile, but sadness was clear in his eyes. "It is a new wand. I won it in a duel."

Sensing this was the end of the conversation she sat quietly again. "I'm feeling better. Maybe I could get up?"

"Go slow, don't overdo it. We should probably have another treatment tomorrow morning," he said, removing the artificial atmosphere around her. Then he helped her sit up. "You've planned five days to recuperate; however, you are two days behind schedule now. May I recommend we completed some additional calculations in case you'll need more time?"

It didn't thrill her to consider changing her next jump; however, it wasn't until 1967 that she was on a timetable. She could make up the time in 1954. "That's a good idea," she relented and stood on shaky legs. Dumbledore resisted the urge to help her and relaxed when she stood straight. "What day of the week is it?"

"Wednesday," he told her. "Wednesday evening. Are you hungry?"

She shook her head, "I'm just tired."

"Ms. Granger," he stopped her before she closed herself up in the closet room. "I don't want to be intrusive, but given your condition, I think… someone needs to look in on you while you sleep. I'll ask Gerty to pop in on you?"

"Yes. I understand. I am feeling better. Just a bit weak and dizzy," she said honestly. Looking at the stack of papers he was in the middle of grading and looked back at him. "I'm sorry for this disruption. I just—"

"—Hermione, stop. I'm sorry for letting Tom Riddle into this school. Neither one of us is responsible for his actions."

"Where is he?"

"Oddly, he's chosen to work at Borgin and Burke's. He wanted a job here, teaching. Professor Dippet wisely told him he needed more time and recommended several jobs at the ministry. Everyone was… confused by his choice. He has become secretive. Word on his exploits is hard to come by. I do believe; however, that he's never stopped trying to find you." He let the words sink in. "We can discuss this further in the morning."

~~/~~

Hermione woke in the morning unsteady. Her muscles and joints were still sore. Her headache had reached new levels of pain. On top of that, Gerty had taken her duty to check in on her seriously. Every hour, on the hour, the house elf had woken her to make sure she was alive and breathing. Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped a plush robe around herself and started rummaging through the drawers. She couldn't wait to wear a pair of fresh, clean clothes. Turning, she suppressed a scream. Gerty had apparated behind her. Hermione clutched at her robe and tried to manage her annoyance. "Gerty, I'm awake and feeling fine," she announced.

"Ms. Hermione, I just wanted to warn you Ms. McGonagall stopped by to ask Master Albus some questions. You should check to see she's gone before you come out," her big eyes searched for approval.

"Thank you Gerty. I'll check. Maybe you can bring me some breakfast?"

"Of course, Ms. Hermione," she said eagerly and disapparated.

Hermione ran quickly to the one-way glass. She was curious to catch a glimpse of a young Minerva. A young girl was waving her wand, attempting to transfigure a mouse into a tea cup. Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. It made her so happy to see, what looked like a first or second year Minerva struggled briefly with the magic. Then she was jumping around at a sound behind her. Gerty had reappeared with an overflowing plate of food. She hadn't expected her to return so quickly, still she accepted the food gracefully. "Thank you, Gerty. You did a great job. I'll let Master Albus know how… thorough you were."

Gerty missed the sarcasm laced in her words, beamed with pride before disappearing. Hermione put down the plate, finished dressing, and checked the glass again. Sure it was safe, she walked out with the heaping breakfast. "Professor Dumbledore, is it alright if I come out?"

"Of course," he said and eyed her plate. "Hungry?"

"Gerty has been very… attentive," she said, offering the plate.

Dumbledore took a piece of toast and smiled. "She can be enthusiastic. Have a seat," he told her conjuring a small bistro table. Using a hover charm, a steaming teapot floated across the room with two cups. One still had a tail. He smiled, returned the mouse to its natural form and picked up a fresh cup.

They sat collegially around the table. "Were these ever transfigurations homework?" she asked taking a sip from the china cup.

"No. They're a set from my family. They remind me of home." He studied her as she ate. Restrained himself from checking her vitals. At least until after the tea. "Ms. McGonagall does have quite the knack for transfiguration. For some reason, she has trouble working with mice."

Hermione coked on a pastry. She of course knew Minerva was an animagus that transformed into a cat. There is little chance McGonagall had accomplished such advanced magic yet. It was merely a curious datapoint.

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. "That's funny?"

"Professor…er… Minerva is quite talented in my time. I'm sure she'll work it out," she said, knowing she already slipped up and she was only two days into her task of not contaminating the timeline. She had to be more guarded in her reactions.

"I'm sure," he echoed and brought up his wand. "If you don't mind, I just want to check you out and see if you require an additional treatment this morning." She relented and waited until he had time to review the results. "The inflammation is still a bit excessive. Don't overdo it today and we'll check again the afternoon. I know you're still in some pain; however, we can't dull that until we're sure the threat of an embolism or shock is over. If you feel acute pain, tell me or Gerty at once?"

"I will, if we could maybe give Gerty a break tonight?"

"I'm sure you would both benefit from an uninterrupted night of sleep," he agreed and grabbed his robes. Putting them on over his suit, he pointed to her room. "I've stocked your bookcase with several titles you'll find interesting and a few more you'll need to read for our lessons. Take a look?"

"Yes. Thank you, professor."

Once and finally alone, Hermione considered her options. It was the first time she had the freedom to choose in over two weeks. She, of course, had to stay confined to Dumbledore's office or her room. It was still freedom. She wanted to write a letter to Harry to let him know she did it, she was safe and it was over. The idea was silly. If everything unfolded the way they had planned, she would be apart from him for roughly two months for her, but possibly only one day for him. Even if she could somehow figure out how to deliver that letter… then she had an idea.

~~/~~

Harry stood in the classroom staring at the spot Hermione had disappeared. He was terrified for her. Hearing a pop behind him, he turned, thinking it came from one of the adults in the room. Searching their faces, he noted they were all looking down at his knees. Harry's eyes followed their gaze and was surprised to see an older house elf standing in front of him. She was wearing one of Hermione's hats, and by the looks of it, it was certainly one of her early works when she was still learning how to knit. She was still wearing the traditional linen cloth with the Hogwart's seal that the rest of the elves wore. So she was free while still choosing to live in service to the school.

"Master Harry?" she asked in a hushed tone.

Harry nodded. "Hi. You are?"

"My name is Gerty sir," she said and held out a faded envelope. "Gerty has been holding this letter for you."

His hands shook as he took the envelope from her. Turning it over he saw Hermione's hand writing: Please deliver to Harry Potter, classroom 142, east wing on January 12th, 1997 at 11:48 p.m. His head shot up and caught Dumbledore's eye. He seemed to be looking past Harry, caught in a memory. Perhaps a new memory Harry wondered. "Thanks, Gerty."

Opening the letter and reading the first line, he immediately sought out a seat.

_Dear Harry, I'm safely in Dumbledore's office in January 1949. I know it's ridiculous writing this letter to you, I should see you tomorrow. But I have to wait weeks before we are in the same time again. This is likely more for my peace of mind than yours._

"She made it, she's safe and she's in 1949," Harry told the others and looked back at the house elf. Tears sprung into his eyes. "Gerty, you did great. Brilliant."

Footprints echoed heavily and Ginny and Ron rounded the corner. They both stopped short and sensed something was going on. Hermione was gone and a house elf in her place. They looked at Harry who seemed emotional. "What happened?" Ginny asked.

Dumbledore stood and ushered everyone out. "Ms. Granger has gotten word. She got away and destroyed the thread of life. Everyone is safe and we should see her soon. You should both get some rest and celebrate the success in the morning." He watched the two Gryffindor's light up and run, presumably to their common room to share the news with their classmates.

Once alone, Dumbledore closed the door and looked at Harry who was pouring over the words scrawled across the parchment. It was an odd sensation to have new memories of her in the past with no knowledge of anything past 1949.

Harry took off his glasses to wipe at his eyes. "Is she really alright?"

The older man crossed the room in four long stride and sat down. "She is. The jump from 1944 to 1949 was hard on her but she made it."

"And Riddle? He doesn't answer for any of this?" Harry was vacillating between relief and anger. "Did he hurt her again before she got away?"

"She had some injuries. We dealt with them that night. Really Harry, a broken nose, a concussion, and some bruises. She fought back and got to me very quickly."

"This is just from 1949, why didn't she write about more?"

"Well. Harry. Time travel is hard to grasp. I myself only have a memory of leaving her to teach my classes the morning after she arrived in 1949. I suspect I will have new memories in the morning to share. I'll leave you to finish your letter, but please also get some sleep. Hermione would not approve if you missed classes tomorrow."

Harry agreed and became so focused on his girlfriend's words he never noticed Dumbledore leave.

_I'm really not sure how all of this will work. It's possible Professor Dumbledore remembers every detail of my time with him; however, I think it's more likely those memories aren't made until they happen for me. Based on Becket's law of magical time travel, what we've done is create a branch of our time that stretches back to Dumbledore's. The events must unfold in a linear process and since I still have decisions to make about by future and your past, those events are still uncertain. I suspect you're thinking about skipping to the next paragraph to miss the magical theory lesson, so I'll leave it at that._

_I really just wanted to let you know, I got away. It happened so quickly I don't think he even understands what happened. Even to this day… five years later for him… yesterday for me. I had to provoke him to get him away from me without being restrained and I took some hits. Professor Dumbledore is a proficient healer and took care of the worst of the injuries. I do still have this mark on my arm. I hope he'll help me remove it tonight._

_Making the jump is hard. I thought I saw something moving outside the time envelope but may just have been a hallucination. It feels like diving deep in the ocean. And it might be more similar than just the sensations, when I came out I had a form of decompression sickness. The speed must change the pressure. My biggest worry is that I could get disoriented during the jump and miss the precise time I need to activate the time turner. I know this is dangerous, and honestly, my feelings for you have convinced me to act cautiously. I'm two days behind schedule and will be rethinking the timing of the next jump to make sure I'm really, physically ready to complete it correctly. _

_I will come back to you. Yours, Hermione._

~~/~~

Hermione had dinner ready when Dumbledore returned from his day.

"What's all this?" he asked and set his bag on his desk chair and loosened his tie.

"Gerty helped me," she explained. In more ways than one, she said to herself thinking about the letter. She waited for him to sit and take a sip of tea she was keeping hot for him. "I need your help."

He put his cup down and looked at her seriously. "I hope by now you would understand I'm here for whatever you need. In fact, you're stuck with me."

She opened her mouth, but their attention was drawn to a knocking at his window. Dumbledore stood and opened it to allow an owl to present its leg to him. He took the letter and unrolled it. "It's from Fiona," he said and started reading. "They know something unprecedented has happened. They don't have enough information to determine the cause or the impact. They know it's centered around Hogwarts and she wants to come here before the ministry finds out and starts poking around."

They both considered the situation. "She said she can meet me in Hogsmeade tomorrow. If you feel up for a trip under the invisibility cloak?"

She nodded.

"I'll ask my brother for a room for Fiona and we'll meet there," he said and quickly scrawled two notes, one for Fiona and one for Aberforth, and returned them to the owl. Watching it take flight he turned back. "Now, you were about to tell me something?"

Hermione stood and walked to him. She rolled up her sleeve to reveal the black rune surrounded by an angry welt. It seemed to have a life of its own, pulsing as if breathing. "It's not the curse, but he made me leave it here. I'd like to see if we can remove it tonight?"

Dumbledore cradled her arm to inspect it. It looked painful. It was curious it never appeared on her vitals. He decided he needed to update his spell to include a scan for dark magic. "Let's eat this food before it gets cold. I need to consult a text and we'll see what I can do."

As they ate, Hermione decided to use the time to learn from the man that even in this age was considered the greatest wizard of the time. For her part, she had the benefit of fifty years of academic discovery and she was pleased to hold her own as they discussed advanced magical theory. She even corrected some of his thinking on a few subjects. Once the tea was exhausted, Dumbledore grabbed a book, of _Ancient Runes, Hexes, and Dark Marks_. "I suspect the solution to this problem will be particular to the ior mark itself. Each rune offers its unique magic, some are protective, others are instructive. Even the runes like the serpent rune serve a purpose. Tom Riddle thinks it represents a snake, the symbol of his ancestors and represents his right to rule over world. It's an incorrect interpretation of ior. This is not the rune of the Midgard Serpent that encircles the world. It, in reality, represents an aquatic animal. An otter actually…" he stopped when she took in a breath of surprise. He looked up.

Hermione pulled out her wand and summoned her patronus. The otter leapt from the wand tip and danced across the room. "_Ior is a river fish, and though it always feeds on land, it has a lovely home, surrounded by water, where it lives in happiness_," he read following the otter, feeling the joy it left in its wake. "You see, Tom Riddle likes to believe the story that fits his narrative and isn't capable of looking deeper to find the truth. Modern interpretations of ior had the same problem. An otter isn't a fish in the current vernacular, so we must expand our understanding. According to Norse mythology, Loki, who we suspect like the Fates, were not a myth, but wizards of their day. Loki was fishing and killed an otter, later to learn the otter was an animagus and the son of a king. The king demanded restitution for his loss, but got greedy. Loki gave him all the gold he asked for using an enchanted ring to find the gold. The king ultimately demanded the ring. Unknown to him, the ring was cursed. His greed lead to his death and the death of one of his remaining sons. The third son was cursed into the form of a dragon, the first dragon. And so the Otter represents a cycle. New beginnings are born from the changing and ending of the old."

Hermione listened as Dumbledore finished the story of the Otter's Ransom, looking at the mark on her arm. The explanation changed her feelings toward the rune, not the mark itself.

"To remove it, will require much from you. Ior is a rune of catharsis. You must have many pent-up emotions that need to be purged. You've had no choice but to be strong through this ordeal. It's time to allow yourself to experience them all. This is a process not a quick fix. I suspect that is why the removal of the curse was so devastating. It wasn't just the attachment through the consuming curse. Because it was the ior rune, being torn from you without the requisite release from you compounded the problem."

"What do I need to do?" she asked, apprehensively.

"May I recommend some reflection tonight. Consider the pain you've been holding back, the fear, the uncertainty…anger, resentment, hatred. These must all be faced before I attempt to remove it."

She didn't think she understood entirely but knew where to start. "I think I understand."

Dumbledore offered an encouraging smile, he handed her the book. "I'm here to listen when you're ready."

"There's one more thing," she said, taking the book of runes. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore… sorry, this is still strange, I'm sure the letter explained my situation with the umbra."

"It did," he said seriously. "I've done as much research as I could on the subject. I'm afraid I don't have a permanent solution. I've made a store of containment potions for you. Once a week should be sufficient."

Not surprised, Hermione was still disappointed to learn that particular problem would remain. One thing at a time she told herself.

~~/~~

Hermione stepped out onto the trail to Hogsmead. She was concealed under the invisibility cloak, still the freedom and fresh air felt good. She also welcomed the companionable silence that existed between her and her professor. This younger Dumbledore felt more approachable. She wondered if that wasn't because she was different and not him. She certainly felt like she had aged significantly since her Christmas holiday. The thought made her stumble slightly, and she was glad she wasn't seen. Her parents. She hadn't once thought about her parents until that moment. Part of her wondered if that wasn't just for the best. Both muggles, there was very little they could do but worry; however, if something went wrong she never even said goodbye. Never sent them a letter even though she managed to get a letter to Harry fifty years into the future.

Deciding to add this complicated feeling to the list of emotions that needed to be confronted, she forced her focus back on their upcoming meeting. The Fiona in the future was immensely trustworthy and capable. Hermione decided to approach the meeting assuming she was the same here.

Stepping into 1949 Hogsmeade was surreal. Everything seemed new and polished. The village itself was very old; however, the shops she had grown to love had a shine to them that was missing in the future. In her time, everything felt comfortable and lived in. She followed him into the Hog's Head Inn and up to Fiona's room. It was coincidentally the same room she and Professor McGonagall had stayed. Even here, the furniture, the bedding all seemed crisp and new. Once the door was closed, she took off the cloak and greeted Fiona as Dumbledore introduced them. "Ms. Fielding," she said and waited for the adults to exchange pleasantries. On the desk was a Tempus Semita. And it was rocking violently in its place.

"I was hoping, Albus, you could explain this," Fiona said pointing to the book. "It appears your companion here may have some thoughts."

Hermione looked from the book to Fiona and then to Dumbledore. "I'm not sure how much to say," she admitted.

Dumbledore gestured to the table in the corner. Everyone sat. "Fiona's job is to protect and preserve time. Anything you share with her is safe. To avoid the risk of accidental contamination, just keep the details to what has happened here, in my time and only those from your time that is needed to understand what's happened."

With that, Hermione began at the beginning. The first night Tom pulled her back. And in excruciatingly painful detail she shared it all. No editing. She figured this was also a time to start her exercise of confronting her emotional responses. Once it was all out, she took a sip of water someone had placed in front of her.

"Well," Fiona was the first to speak. She looked back at the Semita. "Under the circumstances, I'd say the fact that book isn't bigger is commendable. First, I'm sorry that you've been placed in this situation. I'd be lying if I didn't want you to tell me the path Tom Riddle ultimately takes in the future. We're going to be unable to hold him accountable for what he's done to you in this time."

"Honestly, I just want to get home," she confessed. "Justice or revenge or whatever you want to call it doesn't really matter to me." How's that for catharsis she thought to herself.

"Well, as admirable as that is, it's hard to accept from my position," Dumbledore finally spoke. Reading the sanitized version of events hadn't given him the entire picture. Knowing more of the details had stoked his anger. "Fiona, Hermione will be gone from this time in a matter of days. Can we keep the ministry at bay?"

"And then we'll have this problem again in five years… If you share the dates you plan to return to, I will work with Gilford to offer alternative explanations for the edits to the Scriptum and the Semitas. They just need to be convincing enough to distract until you jump forward again," she offered.

"It might be best if the list of dates stays with me," Hermione said looking at Dumbledore. She hadn't even shared the list with him. There were specific moments in the future she was planning to witness, moments that could be catastrophic to the timeline if they were changed. "Could Professor Dumbledore send you word a few weeks before I arrive? He'll know that date right before I jump."

Fiona considered her, and Hermione suspected she was understanding the unspoken message. "I understand. I suppose it won't hurt as long as we're given some advanced notice," she relented and then her curiosity got the better of her. "I wonder, could I see the time turner device you're using?"

Hermione hesitated at first. It was her lifeline to her future and to Harry. She had been keeping it close, along with the wand, since taking them out of the drawer in the room of requirement. "Of course. They're as much yours as they are mine," she said and laid them both on the table. The wand spun on the table for easy access to her hand.

"Curious," Dumbledore said.

"It appears that wand is very much yours," Fiona also observed and chose to study the time turner in its case. "Did they—"

"You," Hermione corrected.

"Did I modify the core?"

"The core and you added the secondary axis. The first turns reset my position in three dimensions, and the next turns on the new axis added the fourth dimension of time, in relation to my speed. Essentially, I move forward, approaching the speed of light. My reference point changes and then I appear in the future. Gravity is also a factor we took into consideration, this ensures a more efficient jump," she explained. "It appears the longer the jumps, the more accurate the calculations."

Fiona and Dumbledore marveled at the magic laying on the table. And then at the tenacity of the witch wielding the power of that magic. "We have some minor adjustments to make to the dates, but I'll send an owl before she completes her next jump," Dumbledore explained.

~~/~~

Back at Hogwarts, Hermione got to work on new jump numbers and threw herself into her studies at night. During the day she tried to do the work she need to accomplish to remove the rune. They both decided not to rush the process when the day came for her next jump, the mark remained.

"Ready?" Dumbledore asked, joining her in the middle of her room.

She nodded, and surrounded herself with the speed envelope. This time she was better prepared for the pressure inside. It was still uncomfortable but her focus was true. The watch numbers started moving signaling she reached the velocity needed. Similar to the last jump, the longer she spent traveling, the more pronounced the shadows were becoming. This time, they seemed to notice her. She held her ground and watched the numbers roll on. Approaching the designated time, she gratefully shifted to the time turner and concentrated on turning the delicate rings. Then she let the magic take her to 1954, leaving the shadows in her wake.

Looking around the dark room, it looked like it was the middle of the night. Feeling dizzy, she tried to make it to the bed, but went down on one knee several feet short. Then the floor was coming up to meet her face as her world went black.


	9. Interlude

**A/N: **Thanks to everyone still sticking with this story. Very special thanks to Jessi Granger and RemisGirl for taking the time to review. Your feedback definitely helps overcome the insecurities about sharing my writing. This chapter is on the lighter side, hope you all like the break!

**Chapter 9: Interlude**

**January 25, 1954, Monday**

Dumbledore was fast asleep when the unfamiliar alarm sounded. It took a herculean effort to open his eyes. Still it took thirty more seconds for him to clear the fog of sleep. And then he was wide awake looking at his modified stopwatch. She was early. He jumped from his bed and rang a small silver bell.

Gerty appeared. If she had been sleeping at three o'clock in the morning, she hid it well.

"Gerty, Hermione's here. Go check on her straight away. I'll be right behind you," he said urgently, slipping on trousers and grabbing a well-worn t-shirt.

He was leaving the Gryffindor common room when Gerty met him at the painting of the fat lady. "Hurry, Master Albus. She's passed out and Gerty can't wake her up," the house elf said, excitedly, jumping up and down.

He broke out into a sprint and skidded to a halt outside his office door. "_Alohomora_," he said, unlocking the door with his wand. He banged his shin on the table in front of his couch, but barely felt it. Tapping out the sequence on the panel of the closet door, his adrenaline reached a peak rush. The light from the office poured into the small closet room. Hermione was laying in the middle of the floor, unmoving. Dumbledore lifted her up and placed her on the bed. Her nose was bleeding, he hoped she had hit it when she went down, otherwise it could be a sign of an internal injury. Summoning some parchment from his desk, he checked her injuries, remembering to add the assessment of any dark magic.

A cursory review confirmed critical decompression sickness. He wrapped her in an oxygen-filled, hyperbaric bubble, then continued to read. It looked like she fainted due to hypoxia. This worried him, and he wondered if that was why she was more than two days early, maybe she started the turn back early having felt the effects. It was certainly something they needed to address. If she passed out before activating the time turner who knew where or when she would reappear, if at all.

"_Accio_ chair," he said, pulling a high-backed chair from his office sitting area next to her bed. Sitting he grabbed a book from her shelf and settled in to keep an eye on her.

~~/~~

Hermione felt a pressure on her chest. Slowing opening her eyes, she saw Dumbledore with a little bit more grey in his hair than before and more length in his beard, fast asleep in the chair next to her. His head was in an awkward angle; she was afraid he would wake with a terrible kink. She moved to wake him, before finally realized she was engulfed with his pocket of pressure. "Professor?" she said, hoping not to startle him. "Professor Dumbledore?"

His eyes opened and he took in a breath of relief. "Hey," he said, straightening. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, I was a little dizzy when I landed," she confessed and waited for him to make sure it was safe to let her up. When she was free, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and looked at his concerned face.

"You're two days early, I wasn't down here. You passed out due to lack of oxygen," he told her, still shaken. "Did you start the time turner early?"

She looked down, a little embarrassed. "I may have rushed a little. I think there's something living in the space between time. I can see them lurking, and this time, they seemed to react to my presence. I started turning at the right time, but wasn't as deliberate as I have been in the past."

"We're in uncharted territory, so it is entirely possible there are some magical creatures that exists in a different phase than us. We'll consult the restricted section tomorrow. If there's nothing there, I have a good friend who's forgotten more about magical creatures than I'll ever know. I can send him an owl. I'm more concerned about the hypoxia. Do you think you're running out of oxygen or you're not able to take in the air you need?"

"I think I run out of air. It happens when the time turner is activated. I can't say if it's a direct result of that change or just due to the time that passes."

"Maybe we should shorten the length of time for the jump?" he suggested, then saw her shaking her head.

"I'd prefer not to, yet. Maybe there's a way to increase the area of the space or increase the available oxygen?" she said hating the idea of prolonging the time in the past or adding an additional jump. "What day is it then?"

"Monday, January twenty-fifth," he told her and stood. "I need to get ready for classes. There are bottles of Maledictum Capio in the bathroom, take one and rest while I'm gone?"

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea," she admitted and laid back down. She was asleep before he left the room.

Between classes Dumbledore had escaped to the library only to come up empty on any creature that may inhabit the area between time or in other dimensions. He was limited in the resources available on the subject matter. Sitting in his empty classroom, he knew his best bet was Newt Scamander. Newt's son, Galton, was in his seventh year, Dumbledore suspected it would be easy enough to invite Newt to watch the next Hufflepuff quidditch match against Gryffindor on Friday. That didn't give them much time to plan if Hermione insisted on jumping after five days of recuperating. If she stuck to her plan, though, they'd at least have until the following Monday.

Determined, Albus penned an invite to have Newt come to Hogwarts on Wednesday, teach a special seminar to the Care of Magical Creatures classes and then to stay for the quidditch match. Satisfied this was the best course, he just needed to clear the seminar with Dippet and the course teacher, Silvanus Kettleburn. He suspected after the close brush with death with a kelpie over the weekend, Kettleburn would welcome the day off. Then there was the matter of whether or not he should meet with Newt alone or risk the timeline by including Hermione. She had done an admirable job in taking care not to share too much with himself and Fiona, he trusted she could continue. However, just the knowledge of Hermione in their time was dangerous. Newt was perceptive, once questions about alternate dimensions or time travel were asked, Dumbledore suspected meeting the girl from the future wouldn't create many additional risks.

With the decision made, Dumbledore turned to swing by the owlery to send the letter, trusting in his persuasive skills to get the permission of both Dippet and Kettleburn before Newt was opening the invite.

~~/~~

A chilly winter wind swept over the covered bridge leading into the school. Dumbledore watched as his old friend approached him, his infamous suitcase firmly in his grasp.

Newt shook his hand and noted the focus on his luggage. "You wanted an informative seminar?"

With some apprehension, the older man nodded. "Indeed," he agreed and motioned Newt to follow into the warmth of the castle. "Thanks for coming. Are you hungry? Lunch should be in full swing in the great hall."

The pair shook off the thin layer of snow that covered their robes. "I suspect we should get right to the real reason for my visit?" he said, a knowing smile gracing his features even as he looked shyly away.

"To my office then?" Dumbledore offered, leading the way. "I am sorry for the subterfuge, but this a delicate issue. I will need to request that our conversation remain confidential?"

"Of course," Newt answered. When they stepped into his former teacher's office, he slumped in disappointment. He thought he was about to encounter some unknown creature. Before he spoke, he saw a young student sitting at a table clearly studying.

"Hermione Granger, meet Newt Scamander," Dumbledore said genially.

Hermione stood and stretched out a hand. "Mr. Scamander, I've read your book."

"I wasn't aware that it was part of the curriculum now?" he said releasing her hand, studying her. She had the air of someone much older than a school-aged student.

"I like to read. I wondered why, with your obvious compassion for the plight of those most misunderstood that you created the Werewolf Registry?" she asked. It was a question she often asked herself when the subject came up in her studies. To have the opportunity to ask the person himself, she couldn't pass it up.

Newt looked away, then to Dumbledore, and then back to Hermione. "Well, that's complicated," he started and looked back to Dumbledore for help.

The older man chose to step in and save his former student. "Maybe we can save that conversation for a later time? We have much to cover and not a lot of time," he said motioning everyone to the more comfortable high-back chairs near the fire. Once everyone was settled and a tea service poured tea into three cups, he filled Newt in on the general situation, careful to not share too much information.

With the rumors that have surrounded Tom Riddle while at Borgin and Burke's, Newt was not unfamiliar with the boy. It had been hard not to miss some similarities with Grindelwald. "It seems one Dark Wizard falls and another rises."

Hermione wasn't sure who he was referring to and made a mental note to ask Dumbledore which dark wizard they were talking about.

When silence fell on the trio, Newt shifted in his chair. "I'm not sure how I can help. Time travel isn't really in my purview."

Taking the lead, Hermione put down her cup. "Is it possible that there are creatures that exist in the space between time?"

It was clear he wasn't expecting this question and put down his own cup. "I've recently encountered a creature with some very curious characteristics. It was the result of some very irresponsible experimental breeding… at the ministry. Someone in the Auror office thought a creature born from a swooping Evil and a xenofob would be a good idea. When I asked them why, they said they wanted a creature that could be trained to hunt dark wizards but hide from muggles. They thought I would be happy they were thinking about muggle safety."

"Mr. Scamander, I know a swooping evil produces a substance that can be used to erase memories. I'm not sure I've ever heard of a xenofob," Hermione said.

"This is good to hear. I made a conscious decision to never write about the xenofob and I'm not entirely sure the Aurors had more than a rudimentary understanding of such a creature. I suspect they only knew that xenofobs actively hid from Muggles, not why they did this. Xenofobs are ancient creatures that were ruthlessly hunted by Muggles for their teeth, which were indestructible and coveted for arrowheads, jewelry, and a host of other applications. This relentless hunt led xenofobs to develop a curious ability to disappear when Muggles were close. However, their teeth and this muggle avoidance talent is not what makes them special. Xenofobs can freeze time," he said, letting the information sink in. "Well, I'm not sure if they stop it as much as they slow down everything around them so significantly that the effect is the appearance of time stopping. You can see why they would be very dangerous in the wrong hands, and the Beast Division decided to keep this information secret even to this day."

"Newt, what kind of offspring were produced," Dumbledore asked.

"Well, I was called in because the Aurors that were tasked with training the creature thought all their memories of the training sessions were being erased. They wanted me to provide them with an antidote. I moved the creature, a swooping shadow, to a protective room with an observation chamber. I watched a swooping shadow move through the room, disappear and reappear in another spot. It wasn't just disappearing though; we can track invisible creatures. I suspected it was phasing out of time but couldn't prove it," he said and looked to Hermione. "Could you describe what you saw?"

Shaking her head, "It was on the other side of the speed envelope. They were hard to make out, and I wasn't even convinced they were there until the other day. One of them moved closer. It may have even bumped into the barrier."

"Are they dangerous?" Dumbledore asked.

"I haven't been able to properly assess their nature or their abilities. No one can be in the same room as them without being frozen. Then, they're only released once the creature phases out of the room. Even if they posed no direct danger, in the right situation, they could wreak significant indirect harm," he said. "Like to someone who's life depends on precision timing."

"Is there something we can do to protect her from the effects if one gets into her space?"

"Not by next Monday; however, if I understand I would have five years to have a solution ready for next time?" he offered.

Dumbledore didn't like the idea of sending her back into the void without a plan. It didn't sound like there was an immediate solution. "Thanks, Newt. If you need to go get settled before your seminar, I'll meet you by the lake?"

Newt stood and turned to Hermione again. "Perhaps tomorrow, we could discuss your views on Werewolf rights?"

She looked surprised but her face lit up. "I would enjoy that. I'll be… right here."

He words drew Dumbledore's attention. Despite her freedom from Tom Riddle, she was still very much a prisoner. Once they were alone, "I think we can arrange a spot for you to get out and watch the quidditch match. Without the invisibility cloak."

"Really?" she seemed hopeful.

"We often get visitors for the match and most people are too busy watching the action to notice anyone in the audience," he said. "My only concern would be Tom somehow finding out where and when you are. I'll be hosting Newt in a private box. Perhaps we can head there early, avoid the crowds?"

"Thank you," she said simply and moved back to her study materials.

~~/~~

Newt arrived for dinner just as Dumbledore was heading out for a faculty meeting. Hermione sized up the younger man. He had a picnic basket in one hand and his battered suitcase in the other. "I thought I could offer you a change of scenery?" he said putting the suitcase down.

She wasn't sure, but she swore she saw a puff of smoke when the lid was opened. With some amazement, she looked on, watching him put both feet inside the case and slowly disappear from view. She shrugged her shoulders and couldn't deny that she was curious about the inside of the infamous case. Following him in, she descended a spiral staircase straight down. The first level was already an overload of curiosities. A niffler was eyeing the silver buttons on her shirt, bowtruckles were swinging happily on a large tree, and a phoenix was rising up from fresh ashes. She wondered if this last creature may have been the cause of the smoke she saw.

"Over here," Newt called out, drawing her to an open prairie that overlooked a peaceful lake.

"This is beautiful, thank you for sharing it," she said helping him spread out a blanket before unpacking the food.

"It started out as a barn not much bigger than Professor Dumbledore's office. The more creatures I found that needed my help the larger it grew," he said and offered her a seat and a sandwich. "There have been times when I think it's expanded all on its own. I believe magic has a way of learning to grow and adapt to the needs of the living beings it's serving."

Hermione nodded and considered her new wand. It certainly seemed to become more than just a wand in her hands. And, of course, the room of requirement was designed to do exactly as he described. "Do you think this place has become its own room of requirement?"

With some surprise, Newt looked up and then around. "I think that is very possible. I've not studied the history of that room. I will have to make a point to look at its origins," he said and watched a knarl approach, eyeing their food suspiciously. "Move along, Hety. We're not leaving the food here. Leave the plants alone." The hedgehog looking creature turned around but continued to cast backward glances at the plate of sandwiches. Still eyeing the food, it reached out to a nearby flower and shredded it. "Hety! That's enough," he warned.

"I'm sorry if I came across as confrontational the other day. I've read so much about your animal conservation work, it's always confused me why you would have anything to do with a policy as harmful as the werewolf registry," she said, taking a bite.

"Well, werewolves have always been in a precarious place within the ministry. Not quite beast and not quite being. When regulation and wellbeing was split between the beast and being divisions, it created sharp division. I suppose, at the time, I thought it was no different than the animagus registry," he explained.

It was reasonable, but it seemed he saw the error in this comparison. "An animagus chooses when to change and there's no stigma attached to the skill. In fact, the majority of animagi choose to be one voluntarily. Werewolves are feared and misunderstood. Creating the registry created the mechanism prejudicial peopled needed to openly persecute and ostracize them," she lectured.

Newt nodded, "I understand that's what has happened. It wasn't our intention," he said and then paused. "At the time, there was heightened fear. There was rumor that a werewolf was deliberately biting children."

Hermione suspect she knew which werewolf he was talking about. "And did he come forward and submit his name to be tracked by the ministry? Became a law-abiding citizen?" she said with more contempt than she intended.

The point was taken. "Not likely. What we have gotten is a map of those bitten by the werewolf. Like a contagion, we're able to track the movements and we'll find him."

She knew that wasn't true. "How many innocents will be re-victimized in the process?"

The question wasn't meant to be answered. The pair watched a baby niffler try to remove a door knob from the entry way into the meadow.

"We do see the unintended consequences. Now. However, can't we turn that around for good and use the registry to ensure they get the help they need through the Werewolf Support Services?" he asked.

"And if someone comes along and decides the registry isn't enough, that anti-werewolf legislation is needed to ensure the safety of the children?" Careful, Hermione, she thought to herself. You're wading into timeline contamination. She found that she didn't much care. If she just planted the seed that may make the future fairer, would that be so terrible? She knew of course it could be dangerous. What if the legislation that she so despised actually did save one single life? By putting the events in motion now, she could very well be responsible for the death of someone or several people in the future. "I'm sorry. My friends think I can get a little carried away when it comes to the protection of those the wizarding world have exploited."

"Your points are taken," he said and pulled out some cookies. They spent the rest of their evening walking around the enchanted hideaway before finally returning to Dumbledore's office.

"Thanks again, Mr. Scamander," Hermione said and headed to her room.

"You're her Headmaster in the future?" Newt asked, looking at the closed closet door.

"Yes. I'm told she can be uncooperative," Dumbledore said with a smile looking at the closed door. "I think her determination is what's saved her thus far."

"We need to get her home. The ministry needs the uncooperative sort," he said and sat down for a brandy with his former teacher.

~~/~~

The day of the quidditch match was the first time Hermione was excited to start her day since the holiday break. She was up, showered, and dressed before Dumbledore could arrive with breakfast. She wore a Gryffindor sweater she found folded in the dresser and had slipped on the McGonagall's ring. Looking at it made her homesick for her friends and teacher. Large, fluffy snowflakes were falling outside the window, but the air was calm. It was really the perfect winter's day for quidditch. Emerging from her room, she greeted Newt and Dumbledore. The latter handed her a wool coat, and a maroon and gold scarf and hat. A genuine smile graced her features.

As they walked up to the pitch, Hermione saw only a handful of students milling about. Most were still at lunch. Despite the sparse crowd, Hermione pulled her hat down and her scarf up. Even if Voldemort was looking for her in this time, she was determined this would not be the day that gave her away. It wasn't until they were settled in the private box did she loosen up the winter clothing. Newt and Dumbledore spent the time waiting to fill her in on the house standings. It was looking like the final game would be between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Hufflepuff still had a chance. Finally, the arena was filled, the crowd was cheering, and the teams took to the air. Some familiar names were called over the speakers. For Hufflepuff, Newt's son, Galton Scamander was playing as a chaser along with Mafalda Hopkirk and Cornelius Fudge. Reginald Cattermole and Pius Thicknesse played beaters. Their seeker was Amelia Bones and the keeper was Charity Burbage. For Gryffindor, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody were beaters. Rufus Scrimgeour played keeper. Their chasers were Hestia Jones, Dedalus Diggle, and Minerva McGonagall. At the name, Hermione cheered perhaps too enthusiastically. She toned it down after catching Dumbledore's eye. Finally, the seeker was announced, Augusta Longbottom. She looked every bit as intimidating at Neville described her.

Leaning forward, Hermione could not have been more thrilled. She hadn't considered she would know so many of the players. Each stray bludger and each close call with the quaffle had her on her feet. Minerva was the star of the game, racking up the points, bringing her team close to the 160-point lead needed to still win even if the seeker from Hufflepuff caught the snitch. It was still a nail biter as Scamander scored several ten-point shots. Then the crowd, which was already roaring, grew immensely louder. Bones and Longbottom were both in a near vertical dive, each spotting the snitch. It buzzed impossibly close to the box Hermione, Dumbledore, and Newt were in. Hermione was able to watch both girls reach for the golden ball. Holding her breath, she saw a flash of maroon and then Gryffindor was announced the winner with nearly 400 points.

As exciting as the game was, Hermione felt a flash of disappointment that it was over. She wanted to follow the sea of Gryffindors up to the common room for the post game celebration. Newt Excused himself to celebrate a well-played game with his son. Dumbledore lingered back with her. She smiled. "You should go celebrate with your house. We always felt it was special when Professor McGongall…" she stopped, realizing her error. "Well, that secret is out… I'm sorry."

"Hermione, you've done an admirable job. One slip-up won't destroy the future. Between you and me, Minerva is the witch I would recruit with every enticement I could manage to replace me as the transfiguration professor. She's already on my radar. I'll walk you back to the office and then will join them for some butter beers," he said and escorted her out of the quidditch pitch.

~~/~~

When Monday finally arrived, Hermione looked back at her week in 1954 with many fond memories. She almost hated to leave, then she thought of Harry. She wanted desperately to be five years closer to him. She opened her door and greeted Newt and Dumbledore. It was very early. Newt was packed to head back to London. He promised to see her off.

"Ms. Granger, I will see you in five years with a solution to the Swooping Shadows. Try to be safe. If you have to, arriving earlier than planned into the future would be better than being frozen in the speed envelope," Newt offered with a serious smile.

Dumbledore had his own concerns beyond the creatures. There wasn't an easy solution to her hypoxia and he had to trust she would stay focused as long as possible. They had some calculations for a larger envelope of air; however, it would change every additional calculation required. It was too complex to figure out in a week's time. He vowed to have a solution when she returned.

"I'll see you both in 1959 then," she said and backed up into the center of her room. Forming the speed envelope, she watched them disappear into the haze. It was mere seconds before she was so surrounded by the creatures that it looked like night had descended around her. She watched them thrash against the energy barrier and felt the ground under her shake, still the barrier held. The numbers on her watched continued to tick by. They seemed to move too slowly. She was sure she would be overrun. Taking a deep breath in, she steadied herself. She just needed to activate the time turner then magic would take her to the designated time even if she was frozen… she hoped. Truth be told she had no idea if the different magic was compatible if one got inside.

_Worrying about it won't change anything_, she told herself. Then tried talking to the creatures. "Please, I'm just traveling through. I don't mean you any harm," she said, feeling a little foolish, but they seemed to respond. "I'm sorry if you've been mistreated." Whether they were responding to her words, her thoughts, or merely losing interest, they seemed to fall back. The numbers on her watch approached the time calculated and she started turning the axis on the time turner. Again, as the shift began, she started to feel light headed and she decided the issue with the air was not due to the size of the bubble, instead there some change that occurred when reversing her direction. It was a data point she could share anyway.

Then she "landed" in 1959 to find Dumbledore waiting for her in his high-back chair he pulled into her room. He stood quickly, discarding the book he was reading and reached out to steady her.

Hermione gratefully held onto his shirt sleeve and tried to make slow measured breaths. "Easy, I've got you," he told her and led her to the bed. Once she was lying down, he wrapped her in the oxygen-filled, hyperbaric bubble and stayed close until she drifted off to sleep.


	10. Special Relativity

**A/N: **I hope everyone is still enjoying my story. Thanks for to the new reviewer, **BeccaSullivanWrites**, glad you found the story and took the time to review. AND thanks for **RemisGirl** and** Jessi Granger** for the continued reviews. You're all greatly appreciated!

**Chapter 10: Special Relativity**

**February 2, 1959, Monday**

Hermione woke to an empty room. Looking out the small window across from her bed, it looked like a sunny, calm winter day. Guessing it was late morning, she wasn't sure what time it was when she arrived. Or what day it was. Not quite ready yet to face the day, she reached over and rung the bell for Gerty.

The small house elf was starting to look older and that surprised her. There were more wrinkles around her eyes, her skin wasn't as smooth and her ears seemed longer. "Master Hermione, it's good to see you again. How are you?"

"Hi, Gerty. I'm ok. Can you tell me the day and time?" she asked moving to stand.

"Of course. It's Monday, one thirty in the afternoon. You missed lunch, Master Hermione. Can I bring you some food?" the house elf asked, looking excited at the prospect of bringing her lunch.

Hermione wasn't very hungry, and yet she didn't want to say no to Gerty when she looked so excited to help. "Sure, Gerty. Maybe some oatmeal and toast?"

"Of course, Master Hermione," she said and was gone.

When Hermione stepped out of the shower, there was a tray waiting for her overflowing with berries and small cups with syrups and sugars. In the middle was a large bowl of steaming oatmeal. Her stomach growled, letting her know she may not want food, but she needed food.

Getting dressed quickly and using a drying charm on her hair she was ready to face the world, as small as it was for her. Checking the mirror, she was surprised to see Dumbledore at his desk on a Monday afternoon. Typically, he had back to back transfiguration classes on Monday. Pushing the door open, she waited for him to look up before entering his office. "Good afternoon, Gerty told me you were up. How are you feeling?"

Bringing her tray to his desk, she set it down to offer him some fruit. "Better, thanks. No classes today?"

He popped a raspberry in his mouth and smiled. "We hired another transfiguration teacher and we've split the course load. I think you know her?"

"Professor McGonagall?" she said and felt excited that Hogwarts was starting to feel more familiar. It was a sign she was getting close to her time.

Dumbledore nodded, "We convinced her to join the staff three years ago." He stood, pulled out a small, leather-bound book from a drawer. "This is from Newt. I sent him an owl this morning informing him of your arrival. He'll be meeting us in the forbidden forest tomorrow. Did the swooping shadows cause any problems?"

Hermione looked at the book. The gold embossed title stood out on the rich leather. _The Case for Werewolf Integration and Wellbeing_ by Newt Scamander. She felt a mix of pride and fear looking at the book. "Oh no. What if I've caused a change?" she asked, looking at Dumbledore.

"Ms. Granger, I think you'll find prejudices are well and firmly established. Whatever injustices that exist in your time are likely intact as a whole. Perhaps sympathies for the plight of werewolves are improved," he said, noting her capability for optimism despite her situation. "But a witch in anytime that believes we can do some good to make our world and community better is never wrong."

He watched a smile grace her features when she read the dedication. _Anyone with the courage to change their perspective is capable of the most complex time travel one can accomplish. To the girl who sees with her heart but speaks with her mind, thank you. _

Letting her flip through the introduction, Dumbledore gathered his notes. He had much to discuss with her. He knew it could wait. Levitating a table near her seat on the couch, he brought the food tray over. Heating the oatmeal with his wand, Dumbledore gave her a knowing look when she took her nose out of the book. "Please eat, and then let's go for a walk," he offered.

The thought of some fresh air had her sitting straighter and digging into the food. Cleaning the bowl, she wondered if he would let her go out without the invisibility cloak. Not wanting to assume, she set the book in her room and grabbed the cloak.

"Most students are in class, I think just a winter coat and hat will do," he said and led her through the familiar halls.

Hermione noted Dumbledore had a few secret passage ways of his own that she, Harry, and Ron didn't know about. Wondering if they were still there in her time, she decided to keep the knowledge to herself. The headmaster deserved some secret places. Enjoying the freedom, she was surprised when they exited the castle under the south tower by the lake. She followed him to a small pavilion overlooking glassy surface. Looking back over her shoulder, she studied the tower she and Harry had shared fears, kisses, and laughter. Soon, she thought. She was getting closer.

"Hermione?" Dumbledore got her attention. Motioned her to sit in a cozy chair next to a small blue fire.

When she stepped inside and sat, he cast a spell that surrounded them momentarily with a shimmering wall of hot air. A concealment charm, she guessed.

"You're distracted," he observed.

She shook her head and gave him a half smile. "Just remembering happy times in the south tower. Has something happened here?"

"I suspect a lot, but I can't prove it," he started. "Tom Riddle, or Lord Voldemort, as he has taken to call himself, has disappeared. He's left a trail of suspicious deaths and attacks in his wake. Deaths we can't prove were caused by him. And five attacks I could, if we didn't care about the rules of time travel."

The words hung in the air. Hermione watched a small squid leap from the lake and plunge back below its surface. "He's gone after women named Hermione," she said, knowing the answer.

Dumbledore nodded. "It seems he sought them out and tortured them. He wiped their memories when it was clear they weren't you or had no connection to you; however, the damage remained."

She closed her eyes and looked away.

"This isn't your fault."

"Isn't it? I led him to believe I was stuck in his time. Dared him to come find me. And how stupid does he think I am, keeping a first name like Hermione and trying to hide from the dark lord?"

At that he smiled. She was genuinely offended that Riddle thought she wouldn't hide better. "I suspect he was grasping at straws at that point. He'd likely exhausted every other idea."

"Do you know where he is?" she asked.

"I don't. I think he's left the country. There is dark magic to be learned here, but it has been effectively driven underground. I suspect he's travelled to a place or places where dark magic is practiced openly. He seems to think forbidding the dark arts holds us back."

"I know," she said with a distant look, not volunteering to elaborate.

Dumbledore took a breath. He had a request that was at best a violation of wizarding law, at worst it would feel like a personal violation. "Hermione…"

She seemed to sense the change in the conversation from dark to something worse. Not sure she wanted to know what came next, she waited.

"You're the only one to interact with the real Tom Riddle, with Lord Voldemort, and lived to tell us how evil he truly is. We survived one dark wizard, I'm not sure we'll take another one down without permanent damage."

Already knowing the request that was coming, Hermione was conflicted for so many reasons. "You want me to share my memories with you," she said to his surprise. "You have the pensieve or you want to use occlumency?"

He wasn't sure why her matter-of-fact approach felt like the worst response he could have gotten. "I have a pensieve," he said not wanting to push the issue, letting her consider it.

"Professor… I'm not sure you should know what Tom Riddle has become in my time. You've have suspicions but if I do anything that gives you too much information, it will change history."

He moved to protest, she interrupted him.

"You gave me some tasks before I left my time. To take advantage of the situation and gather information that has been lost to history. At the time, it seemed different. These were memories, details that weren't remembered that could help us in the future. But it's the same isn't it? You… you both want lost knowledge to stop Lord Voldemort. One of you may change my past and the other, my future," she was clearly working it out and wasn't looking for his thoughts on her predicament. "I'll give you only the memories you could find in your time; memories Tom could give you. And I'd like to be there when you watch them for the first time… to make sure… to…" she stood feeling like she was inside the speed bubble, quickly losing oxygen.

Dumbledore stood as well. Meaning to assure her. He knew part of her hesitancy was the vulnerability of sharing with him the things Tom had done to her. "Hermione, if there is anything in these memories you share that make you uncomfortable, we'll stop immediately."

Fighting back tears she nodded. "I need some time to make sure I give you the most complete memories without including information from the future. Can that be done inside the pensieve?"

"I have no idea," he said, curiosity rose up within him. It was a fairly new procurement for him, he hadn't tested the extent of its capabilities.

"I should be able to copy the memory, and if I take my wand in with me, I can take out extraneous memories. I'll just remove them, I won't change them of course and the original memory will be intact," she assured him. Having a magical problem to solve seemed to distract her from the discomfort of sharing the personal experiences.

"This means you'll need to view these memories twice," he cautioned, knowing the damage of watching the torture again could do.

She turned on her heel to face him. "Professor Dumbledore, I see them all, every time I close my eyes. Watching them from an objective position may actually help me come to terms with this entire situation." Letting her words sink, Hermione had a terrifying thought. She knew there was a possibility she would run into Voldemort before she got back to her time and even then, she had an issue. Once she returned, she couldn't go into hiding. One report from Draco, and Voldemort would know she was back. She needed to protect the future.

The two stood in silence. Albus could see a war waging inside her. He felt guilt roll over him in waves. "Hermione—"

"—I need a favor," she interrupted.

"Anything," he told her, watching fear pass over her and transform to determination.

"I need occlumency lessons."

Taking a step back. He hadn't been sure what she was going to ask him for, but this wasn't on the list. "You're safe here, Hermione."

"I am, yes. While I'm on school grounds and in the past. I can't let him know how I made it back to my time. If, somehow, I run into him before I get back, he can't know about the time turner or how I'm moving through time. He can't," she said. She had to convince him without telling him she would very likely run into Lord Voldemort before she got back to 1997.

He sensed she was holding something back, but did understand the concern. If Tom Riddle got access to the magic she was using, there was no limit to the damage he would cause. It was knowledge that did need to be protected at all costs. "Alright. It's not a discipline that I have had great need to teach, but we do cover it in the N.E.W.T. Defense Against the Dark Arts curriculum. I would suggest you give me a list of the information you want to protect. We can practice a defense against those specific thoughts."

"I'll need practice blocking him while… under duress," she said hesitantly. As much as he felt guilt requesting her memories, she was uncertain he would disagree to her next request.

"Under duress…"

"He… well, he likes to use the cruciatus—"

"—out of the question Hermione. I will not, I would never use the cruciatus curse on another witch or wizard. Certainly not on a student and especially not on you." He was angry, she felt it radiate from him.

She would have backed off if she didn't think this was the most important skill she needed to master. "I know what I'm asking is… obscene… but I need to know I can block him from my mind when it matters." When she saw how conflicted he was, she tried a different approach. "Maybe there's a potion that can cause pain without inflicting any damage?"

This seemed more palatable, albeit still offensive. "There are some potions that have been used by wizards to get even with enemies… they're not illegal; however, they're not quite lawful either. Let me think. We can still practice occlumency in the meantime."

Letting out a breath she was holding, she felt an overwhelming gratitude. "Thank you, professor. I know I'm asking a lot."

"As am I," he said. "Extraordinary situations require extraordinary solutions. We'll start tonight?"

She nodded, "I'll work on collecting the memories you need if you can show me where the pensieve is?"

~~/~~

Five hours later, Hermione fell out of the pensieve shaking. Dumbledore walked quickly to her. She tried to stand but found her arms and legs were useless and she let him help her to the couch. When he handed her a tissue, she wiped at her face. Surprised to find it wet with tears or sweat, she wasn't sure which and it was probably both, and then a bottle of butter beer was placed in her hands. "Thank you," she said taking a long drink. "They're ready if you want to collect them. Maybe we can wait until tomorrow to view them together?"

Dumbledore took out his own bottle and sat heavily in the now worn, high back chair. "Are you sure you need to witness them again?"

Sitting up straighter, she took a breath. "Probably not. Part of me wants to prove it to myself and to you that I can handle it."

"Hermione. You have nothing to prove to me. You've done more than anyone could have asked, more than anyone has the right to ask. You've selflessly endured these torments with bravery. You're a credit to your house and to this school. Tom Riddle is searching for power he can wield, it will be his greatest failure that he completely missed that true power waits to act for the right reasons and in the right way. He won't win. There is no shame in not acting, in not forcing yourself to experience these torments one more time."

"I'm going to sleep on it, if that's alright? If it can wait until tomorrow? I do think I can be helpful during some of the… more intense moments. Sort out the chaos."

"I will wait until you're ready for me to view them. And occlumency lessons can wait until tomorrow too," he said with some relief. He wasn't looking forward to testing her ability to resist a mental assault.

"That'd be good. I am sorry if I overstepped in asking you to use an unforgivable curse. It was out of line. I think I'm terrified Voldemort is going to figure out what's happening and will try to use the time turner himself. I can't be the reason he destroys the future."

"You've fought him off already. I've seen the records. He wouldn't have used legilimency that many times if you weren't successful in blocking him."

"I fought off Tom Riddle, a sixth year Hogwart's student. I haven't had to face Lord Voldemort," she said opening the closet door.

Before she entered, she heard him whisper, "I dare say, Lord Voldemort hasn't truly faced Hermione Granger."

~~/~~

The sun filtered through the small window in Hermione's room. She sat at her desk staring at the parchment plotting out each of her jumps. She had a problem that she hadn't had time to think about solving. The first date her headmaster had considered important was seven years away. It wasn't a trip she could safely make in one jump considering the hypoxia and the swooping shadows, but she didn't know how to explain to this Dumbledore a shorter jump without creating distrust or suspicion. The laws were clear; he couldn't know Lord Voldemort was going to visit him until the appointment was made. Having a few ideas, she folded the creased parchment up and tucked it safely away in her small pouch around her neck. Feeling the weight of the time turner against her chest inside the pouch gave her comfort. Her old wand was already safely stowed in the wand pocket of her robes while the ancient vine wand was sitting in front of her. As she reached for it, it turned to present the handle to her. The allegiance gave her courage to face the day ahead of her.

Dumbledore turned as Hermione entered his office. It was clear that neither one was looking forward to the events to come. "Good morning. Did you eat?"

"Yes, Gerty brought me a tray before I showered," she said and gladly took a cup of tea he offered, if only to do something with her hands. "Do you have lessons today?"

He shook his head, "Minerva is covering my classes today. I told her Newt was coming for a visit and I needed the day. I thought we could start with some occlumency lessons and see how you felt before using the pensieve. If that's alright?"

Hermione nodded, looking warily at the floating disk. The only thing she knew for sure after experiencing all of her memories again was that she had a lot of work to do before the ior rune could be removed. "I thought I would let you witness the memories and tell me if there are any that would require me to go in with you. I suspect I'll have some work to do after our lesson, and I would like to take care of this mark soon… I have plenty to keep me busy before Mr. Scamander arrives."

Letting out a small sigh of relief, at least one task today would be a small measure easier. "I think we have a lot to do then. Do you need a minute to prepare?" he asked, picking up his wand.

Setting down the delicate, flower cup she squared her shoulders. "I spent some time finding my focus this morning. I'm ready."

They stood six feet apart in the middle of the room. Dumbledore brought up his elder wand, and Hermione resisted the urge to take out her own wand in response. "_Legilimens_."

The intrusion was surprising to her. It was different. More refined, less violent. It was easy to block him. "Professor, this isn't going to work if you don't…"

The pain was visible on his face. This was going against his every moral fiber. "Ms. Granger," he started to protest but realized she was right. There was more at stake than either of their comfort. There was a great risk to the future if she wasn't prepared to face Tom Riddle again. "You're right," he said and flicked his wand to move a chair behind her. Then he was in her mind, looking, searching for a memory he could exploit. His office faded away, he had tunnel vision on her face, everything else was out of focus. She was putting up a good defense, but there were glimpses filtering through. Deciding the only memories she needed experience blocking were those that involved her time travel, he started to focus those memories to a sharp point. He saw himself, the first time she entered his office, out of breath and disheveled. Then it was gone, replaced with transfiguration lesson being taught by a much older McGonagall. Stepping forward, he directed the thoughts back toward the first time she jumped. He felt the pressure of the speed envelope, the pain radiating down from her head to her shoulders. And then he was standing in front of her, so much older, in a small stone room looking at a wall of chains, and whips, and knives.

The image was so startling he took a step back and the spell was interrupted. She was breathing heavily, sitting in the high backed chair, her hands gripping the armrests so tightly her knuckles were white. Dumbledore put his wand away and rubbed his face with both, shaking hands. "Are you ok?" he asked summoning her tea, warming it on its way to her hands.

Wrapping both hands around the warm china, she took a sip.

"This was a bad idea," he said and sat.

"No. I need to do this. He won't hold back, and who knows what dark magic he's learning right now," Hermione said and stood. "Again."

Letting out a long breath, he gave her a look that seemed to be a combination of concern and sadness. "You won't be able to keep your mind blank for prolonged periods of time. It may be easier if you find memories that drive him out."

Silence hung in the room as she concentrated on what she knew about Lord Voldemort based on Harry's encounters with him. "He doesn't understand love, unconditional love. Friendship. Strong, genuine emotion. Harry… a friend who… well, the Lord Voldemort in my time, was driven out of my friend's mind by concentrating on memories of, well, us."

Dumbledore nodded with understanding. He had many suspicions about the mental state of Tom Riddle. It was a harsh reality to know how he was right about the boy, but also so very wrong in not suspecting such darkness was inside of him. "Concentrating on these memories won't drive me away, but we can practice redirecting."

~~/~~

The fire popped and cracked in front of Hermione. She was sitting, watching the flames weave and wave. Casting sidelong glances at the hovering pensieve across the room, she waited. She was supposed to be resting and had tried to lie down. Knowing what Dumbledore was doing kept her mind from shutting down. After tossing and turning for an hour, she gave up. Shifting from the pensieve to the clock above his door, noted the time. Newt would be at Hogwarts any time now, but Dumbledore was still in the pensieve. It was making her nervous. There were hours of memories to view. Would she have to go in to get him? The thought caused her palms to sweat. To her relief, he suddenly appeared. His back to her, facing the pensieve. She watched him. His hands were at his sides, fist clenched. Back straight. Finally, he turned around and stopped short at the sight of her. He thought he was alone. Their eyes held each others for what seemed like eternity. Finally, he took out his wand, waved it at his china service and directed a tray to hover in front of the fire.

When he was seated in the twin chair next to her he stared at the fire. "Hermione… I don't... " he tried to find the right words and came up short. He picked up a cup of tea and then set it down. With a flick of his wand, a tumbler of amber liquid in ice appeared in his hand instead. He downed the drink and grimaced as it burned. Slowly it refilled from the bottom of the glass up to the top of the ice.

"Professor," she started. A flick of his eyes stopped her.

"Hermione, I think under the circumstances we can drop the formalities and would prefer if you call me Albus. I have no right to hold your respect after watching these actions I forced you to endure."

There was anger in his words and perhaps some disappointment. A healthy portion seemed to be directed at his future self.

"You didn't force me to do anything," she said.

"Didn't I? I could have shut the school down. The instant we figured out what was happening."

"Professor," she tried again. His eyes once again flashed with anger. This wasn't her headmaster, this was a man she was depending on and had been forced to share details of her darkest experiences. Professor did feel like it no longer fit. "Albus," the word was foreign on her tongue. "I made choices. Lord Voldemort is different in my time. We don't have the luxury of running from him or waiting him out. And we can't afford to give him the kind of power that he would derive knowing he caused the end of Hogwarts."

"You had no choice in what I just witnessed."

"You only see what Tom did to me. By design and to protect the future. You know that. I chose this path; this wasn't your idea. Me being here, moving through time, this was all my idea. I needed you and Fiona and others to help me make this happen, but you let me make this choice. And I would do it again. In a heartbeat."

Leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, glass cradled between his hands, Dumbledore closed his eyes.

"I'm not a victim. Not his and not yours," she said, causing his eyes to snap open. "We all have to fight back against Voldemort. This is how I choose to fight. If you don't see the value in that, well then you're not the Professor Dumbledore I know. Stop feeling sorry for me. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and help me fight him."

Dumbledore leaned back and looked at her with a new understanding. He had been viewing her as a victim. The girl sitting next to him was many things, but he finally realized a victim wasn't one of them. They both sensed the change.

"We should get ready to meet Mr. Scamander," she offered, changing the subject.

"I need to shower and change," he said standing. As he walked past her, he placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're right. You're not a victim. I'm sorry it took me so long to see that."

~~/~~

Thirty minutes later, they were making their way down to the forbidden forest. Hermione was once again concealed under the invisibility cloak. Neither said a word, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. The conversation earlier seemed to have changed their relationship from student and protector to equals in a decades long fight against Lord Voldemort.

Entering the edge of the forest, Hermione saw the tall, lean silhouette of Newt, waiting. When he turned, she took off the cloak and stopped short. A shadow peaked out from behind a nearby tree. It was gone so fast, she thought she was just tired and seeing things until it reappeared at Newt's shoulder. It looked like a stingray floating in front of them, but something about the darkness revived a distant memory. A dream she had before this all started of a form that was so dark it wasn't a color but an absence of light.

"It's alright, she won't hurt you," Newt said.

"If I had a galleon for every time I was told that in this forest…" Hermione muttered but took a step forward. The swooping shadow moved through the air soundlessly. As it approached, it would disappear and reappear. Each time it would seem to be closer. It was moving forward while it was phasing in and out of their time. Hermione put out a hand. When it touched her, she felt its thoughts. Curiosity, fondness for Scamander, trust… it was overwhelming. She took a step back, felt Dumbledore steady her.

Sensing the change, the swooping shadow retreated to safety behind Newt. "It's one of the most intelligent creatures I've encountered. I think it's because of the time it spends in other realms… and perhaps because it still, well it still prefers to eat brain," he said cautiously and saw the look of horror mirrored on his companion's faces and added quickly, "Not either yours of course. And they like to eat other things too. They're not like their cousins the swooping evil. A couple years ago, I finally got them to be in the same room with me without freezing time. Then I discovered they're telepathic. Through touch. After that, it was really pretty easy to make friends."

As he spoke, the creature approached Hermione again and flew playfully around her. It would periodically bump her and she couldn't help but smile at the joy that flooded her. "If one gets inside the speed envelope?" she asked.

"Well, their instincts are to freeze time until they know it's safe. Normally this isn't catastrophic, however, in your case… This one here, her name is Shiloh. She's going to phase with you, right outside the bubble and travel alongside. She'll be able to communicate to the others that you're no threat. Hopefully keep them on the other side of the threshold."

Shiloh bumped her again and a feeling of safety washed over her. Hermione turned to look at Dumbledore who was watching the interaction with skepticism. The black mass weaved around her and phased out only to appear near Dumbledore's hand. He brushed her wing and couldn't help the small smile. "You'll keep her safe then?" he asked and straightened with surprised as if he had gotten a response.

"I think she already did," Hermione answered. "Just before I needed to use the time turner they were getting close. I tried to talk to them and they seemed to understand. They backed away. Until now, I wasn't sure if it was all just a coincidence."

Newt nodded. "She'll stay with you for the week. Have Professor Dumbledore send me an owl when you're ready for the next jump and I'll send her back to you. If she doesn't find you first."

Seeing the opportunity, Hermione took a chance. "Maybe I should adjust my next trip to cover a shorter time. Test their responses?" she asked, hoping that Dumbledore wouldn't suspect she had other reasons for the change.

If he suspected she had ulterior motives, he didn't let on. "That's not a bad idea. Let me know if you want a second pair of eyes on the amended calculations. Newt, are you staying for dinner?"

"I'd like that," he said. Hermione donned the cloak and turned to follow the men back toward the castle. The swooping shadow moved around her as they walked, phasing in and out while bumping her playfully. Once in the safety of Dumbledore's office, she shed the cloak and stood waiting. As much as she appreciated the safety of the small space and her room, she was starting to feel claustrophobic, especially after the vastness of the forbidden forest. In her daydreaming she missed the activity around her. Where there had been an exterior wall behind Dumbledore's desk, there was now a stone archway. On the other side, she saw a snow covered courtyard. A haze similar to the haze that surrounded the gazebo the day before covered the new patio space. She assumed a concealment charm was in place. She joined Newt at the threshold and saw Gerty working on a lavish table. "Thank you for the book, and the dedication," she said to him.

Pulling out a chair for her, he nodded. "Thank you for helping me open my mind."

Dumbledore joined them with three butter beers. "Hermione was worried she may have inadvertently changed the future."

Newt smiled, "Well, we do that every day we make a decision, don't we? If the future changed to make life more tolerable for Werewolves would that be so bad?"

"It may be if someone exploits the change. Werewolves have no control over their actions during the full moon for decades. What if policies change that allows a werewolf to kill or turn someone that wasn't supposed to meet that fate. The ripples can be extensive and catastrophic," she explained.

"Wouldn't it be great if books could have such an impact on our future?" Newt said with a smirk. "I assure you we haven't neglected the public safety in our efforts to give aid to the werewolf community. And I assure you that the prejudices toward that community are still strong. Fear is, at times, a much more powerful motivator than books. Even well written, well intentioned books."

Hermione couldn't really argue with his reasoning. She didn't want to be responsible for irreparable damage to the future, but she also imagined the course of human events had the momentum of a freight train. It wasn't going to be easy to derail.

"Hermione, your efforts to preserve the timeline have been admirable," Dumbledore interjected. "This situation was thrust upon you, and no one would deny that you've taken considerable risk to protect the future from Tom Riddle. Any ripple, as you say, would be a drop in the bucket compared to the changes Lord Voldemort no doubt intended."

"Speaking of…" Newt jumped in, sharing the speculations and hearsay rampant in the wizarding community about Voldemort's whereabouts.

Hermione half listened. She watched the snow fall. It was a strange sensation, sitting in the warmth of Dumbledore's charm but still under the cold night sky. There was still so much work left to do and so many years between her and Harry.


	11. Catharsis

**A/N: **Big thanks to **PerfectlyStrange **and **Ronnie R15** for the new reviews and to **Jessi Granger** for the continued reviews! Special thanks to Ronnie for catching my error with the fate's name. It's been corrected to Clotho. I'm not sure how that oversight happened, but glad you caught it. You guys were my motivation for making sure I posted this today, sorry it was delayed over the weekend. For everyone else still following and reading, I'd love to know what you think.

**Chapter 11: Catharsis **

**February 4, 1959, Wednesday**

The next morning, Hermione read by the fire. Shiloh would pop in occasionally to nudge her, leaving her with a feeling of protection and comfort. Flipping the Daily Prophet's first page open, she skimmed the inside stories that didn't make the front page. The trial of a house elf named Hokey had officially concluded and she was found guilty in the death of her master, a witch called Hepzibah Smith and theft of two priceless artifacts from Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin. A reward was offered under the pictures of both treasures. The main story on the opposite page was a pair of dueling op-eds about the ban on Creaothceann, a violent broom sport that had been banned by the ministry for more than two centuries. The pro argument seemed to be centered on an objection to the ministry's efforts to regulate or even eliminate wizarding traditions in favor of "social progress." On the back of the paper, a half page ad promoted an upcoming lecture the International Confederation of Wizards was hosting. The Muggle expert, Mordicus Egg, would be advocating for updating muggle studies curriculum to have a more favorable view and a recommendation to educate muggle-born witches and wizards during the summer breaks from their muggle primary schools, better preparing them for their first year at Hogwarts. Finally, tucked away in a small corner of column inches, a brief story updated readers on the shortages of dementors in Azkaban. The minister of magic, Ignatius Tuft, was forming a committee to recommend solutions. Closing the paper, she considered the seeds there were being sown that would give Voldemort the opening he needed to rise to power. It was easy to see how families that took pride in their pure blood status and centuries old traditions would be put out.

Dumbledore appeared out of the pensieve. Before leaving for his lessons, they exchanged knowing looks but left the words to themselves. She had no idea which memories he was viewing and she decided it was for the best. She had tried to leave every memory she could in an unedited form. Including the night Tom moved away from physical torture to sexual assault. As she had watched the events unfold for herself, she no longer felt the shame associated with that night. Remembering Harry's words of support and his assertion that the responses she felt weren't her own, she was able to watch Tom Riddle and see him for what he was. A predator, willing to do anything to gain the upper hand. His pleasure came from her response, her fear of him. It had been especially insightful to watch that encounter, and left it in its entirety. Based on Dumbledore's responses to her, she guessed he hadn't gotten to those memories yet.

Hermione spent the rest of her day studying from her favorite chair by the fire. So engrossed in the text, she hadn't realized how late in the day it had become. Hearing the click of his lock, she moved quickly toward the closet in case Albus had a student or teacher with him.

"It's just me," he said as he entered, knowing she'd be worried if she was in his office. He saw her standing a few paces away from the chairs by the fire, a book in her hand. He glanced at the title and saw it was his advanced defense against the dark arts book. Her hand likely marking the occlumency section. Dumbledore motioned to the pair of chairs and took the one closest to him.

They sat in silence for a time. Both looking at the flames. Finally, he reached into his pocket and placed a small blue bottle on the table between them. "_Dolor poena_ potion. It was a very popular potion to use in interrogations when wizarding law enforcement was… less regulated," he told her. His contempt clear. "It will cause intense pain and induce feelings of grief and heartache. There are no lasting effects and no evidence it was ever used."

She looked at the bottle and studied the contents. "For how long?"

"A teaspoon of this and you'll feel its effect immediately and for fifteen or twenty minutes," he said. "There is no antidote. We'll need to let it run its course once you've taken it."

When she picked up the bottle, he looked away. He knew it was a better option than the cruciatus curse and after seeing a portion of her interactions with Tom Riddle he knew why this was necessary. It still didn't help him accept the situation.

"Maybe we should do this somewhere else," she said looking around his office. She didn't want him to associate her pain with his sanctuary and she wasn't sure if the walls were entirely soundproof.

"Where would we… no… no Hermione, that's…" he stood, understanding coming to him quickly.

"There may be no physical evidence that it was ever used, but memories are powerful," she said as she too stood, and nodded toward the pensieve. "I don't want to associate this office with those experiences. I don't want you to either. And I need to practice this in an environment where I don't feel safe."

His looked away, understanding her point. "Let me go to my room to change and grab a few things," he relented. "I'll meet you on the seventh floor?"

She moved to him and squeezed his hand. "Thank you. I know this goes against your better judgement."

"I've done a lot that I regret for the benefit of many, at the cost to a few. Sometimes we don't have the luxury of comfort. I'll go along with this as long as it remains productive but I won't let you suffer needlessly."

Thirty minutes later they were both standing in the entrance of the room of requirement. Dumbledore had seen it in her memories and she continued to see it in her nightmares. Neither wanted to move further inside. Finally, Hermione took a step. Standing in front of the stone table, she put the potion bottle on the edge. Thinking about what was coming next, a teaspoon appeared next to it. Looking behind her, she saw the doubt on Dumbledore's face. She squared her shoulders, poured the purple liquid into the spoon. Turning around, she looked at her professor one last time.

He nodded his head and drew out his wand.

Taking the dose, he hadn't lied. The effects were immediate. The spoon dropped from her hand as she fell to her knees. A sob escaped from her, she wrapped one arm around her midsection.

Dumbledore rushed to her side. "Hermione?"

Tears filled her eyes. They stubbornly refused to fall. "I'm ok," she said yet made no move to stand. "I'm ready."

He stood, pointed his wand at the trembling girl in front of him. "_Legilimens_."

An incredible sadness engulfed her. Then she saw the memory. So clear, it seemed like she was reliving the moment. She was standing in the same room, but a different time. Looking down, Tom Riddle was motionless. An urgent need to run flooded her, then she reminded herself that's what Voldemort wanted to see. As if she was wading through mud, her mind moved her out of the room of requirement and into the south tower. Harry's laughter filled her heart, pushed the sadness away. A wave of pain coursed through her, the south tower moved out of focus. She was running down the stairs, away from Tom Riddle. Her hands were gripped tightly around the small pouch and her wand… her lifelines back to Harry. Objects no one could ever know about. The fear overcame the pain. The south tower was her sanctuary. The love and safety she felt there. With Harry.

Dumbledore watched her struggle on the ground in front of him. He wanted her to stay in this memory that brought her comfort, but that wasn't in her long-term interest. Still, if anyone walked in on him, pointing his wand at a Hogwarts-aged girl, writhing in pain, he was certain he'd end up in Azkaban.

Steeling himself, he needed to test her ability to redirect away from any memory of her time travels. He forced her away from the south tower and back toward the devices she kept so close. Before he could make out the wand or the time turner, he was back in the south tower with Hermione and a young boy with unruly hair. Through the connection, he felt the fondness and love she had for the boy. It would certainly be a strong force to unsettle Voldemort enough for her to mount a defense.

One last push, he saw her in the secret room, ready to jump. He needed to see if he could get her to reveal any detail. With incredible effort, he pushed. Hermione cried out in pain and defiance and then they were in the south tower again.

Dumbledore lowered his wand and kneeled next to the trembling form. As he lifted her off the ground a small bed appeared to their right. Setting her gently on soft covers, Dumbledore stepped back. His hands shaking. On the stone table, a glass of amber colored liquid appeared which he gratefully swallowed in one long drink. He hadn't just watched her memories; he had felt the emotions. It had been very different than being a spectator in the pensieve. With that, he thought about his next unpleasant task. Having memorized the medical record which provided a chronological order of every spell Tom used against her, he knew what memory was next in the pensieve. Scanning the room, he realized physically being present was different than experiencing the memory. Then he had a flash of a memory, from their earlier occlumency lessons, of a much older version of himself. He was standing next to her looking at a disturbing sight. Spotting the area he thought was most likely the site, he moved behind a partition and saw it. The whip Tom Riddle used to punish her for leaving the school grounds. The chains, the knives, the maces… all the devices Tom had asked the room of requirement to provide. Had he used them on anyone other than Hermione or were they just there for future plans?

When he moved back to the main room, he stopped short, Hermione was sitting on the side of the bed. Watching.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice full of concern. Concern over her current state and concern over the past.

She stood and lifted her chin. It wasn't defiance toward him, it was toward Tom, toward the rack at his back. "If I'm ever face to face with him again. I'm ready."

A quick nod, Dumbledore took the potion bottle off the table while she pulled on the invisibility cloak.

~~/~~

The next morning Hermione woke with confidence she hadn't really felt since her ordeal had begun. Knowing she could fend off an attack on her mind from Voldemort was a relief from a worry she had carried with her. She had one more task left undone. The rune on her arm should come easy. Now. Gathering her wands and small pouch, she opened the door. Surprised to find the office empty, Hermione looked around. The pensieve was active. Pulling aside a chair, she sat to wait. Opening the pouch with the jump dates, she counted how many more mornings she had to go.

Shiloh appeared at her knee, bumping her. The gentle creature knew it was time to go and was ready. Finally, Dumbledore appeared. He walked to her, keeping a short distance between them. "You've seen them all then?" she asked but already seeing the answer in his eyes. "Were they helpful?"

He wasn't sure how to answer her. The truth was, he didn't know. "They will be," he said, deciding to settle for some honesty. He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, then let it fall back at his side.

Hermione understood the reaction and a part of her even appreciated it. Instead of letting him withdraw, instead of letting him think she was fragile, she reached out and took his hand. "I'm fine. I watched it all and it helped. I've processed it. I've talked about it with friends." To both of their surprise, Shiloh bumped their clasped hands and they both felt each other's thoughts. His sadness and protectiveness, her resolve and strength. "Thank you," she said. Letting go of his hand, she moved to the closet room to get ready Shiloh weaving around her in obvious excitement.

**February 10, 1962 Saturday**

A cold winter breeze rattled her small window. Winter didn't appear to be letting up in this time. Hermione thought wistfully about changing the jump dates to the summer. There was one more February trip to make. She spent the first day in 1962 in seclusion. Having arrived on a Saturday and a Hogshead weekend for the older students, Dumbledore had more leisure time, but so did the headmaster. When Armando Dippet stopped by for an impromptu curriculum discussion, Albus couldn't argue. He had tried to move the meeting. Hermione watched the fruitless efforts from one-way glass. In truth, it was a welcomed retreat. She needed the mark gone and knew she still had work to do before it released its hold on her.

There she sat, at her private desk, her quill scratched along the journal pages. It all seemed to flow from her chest to her hand and out onto the page. As the black ink mixed with tears seeped into the parchment and dried, the pain and fear went with it. The sun was setting. The words on each page were somehow physically lighter than the first, finally filled with promise.

A soft knock interrupted her. Closing the journal, Hermione stood and opened the door. Even though this was a short jump, she was surprised by the changes she saw. His hair and beard were more grey than brown. Deep lines were more pronounced around his eyes. She wondered how much of her situation had aged him. "Hello," she finally said with a small smile.

"I'm sorry for the confinement. Dippet can be loquacious," he said motioning her to his sitting area. She followed with the journal in hand. "Was the trip… uneventful?" he asked. When she arrived he had time to ensure she was stable, but she was unconscious when he left her in Gerty's charge.

"The swooping shadows stayed well out of range of the envelope," she said and pointed her wand at the fireplace, restarting a fire. She lifted the journal. "I'm ready to remove the rune."

He looked at the bound parchment and nodded. Once she tossed the book into the flames, they both considered the emotion release that had been required. "Shall we try now?" he asked pulling out his own wand and offering his free hand.

With more trust than she had ever had for another person, she rolled up her sleeve and rested her forearm in is hand. The mark hadn't faded but the angry swelling that had been induced by the curse removal was gone. She closed her eyes, searched her mind for any unresolved issues. The umbra was still an unknown variable, but she was as sure as she could be that her greatest fears and concerns were acknowledged and processed. She opened her eyes and nodded.

Dumbledore pointed his wand at the mark and whispered, "_Apstergio_."

This time there was a soft glow instead of the leechlike tendrils. Whether that was because she had accomplished the required catharsis or because this mark wasn't coupled with the consuming curse, she didn't know. There was some discomfort; however, it was a far cry from the excruciating pain from previous purging spell. A tightness started to form in her chest, moved down her arm. Tears of release formed in her eyes. Then, without warning, Dumbledore's wand jerked upward as if an invisible line was broken. She leaned back heavily in her chair and took some time to collect her thoughts. So consumed with those thoughts, she hadn't noticed Dumbledore prepared a tray of food for them.

"Eat something. Please?"

Nodding, Hermione grabbed a sandwich and looked at the older man. She felt ready for the tasks ahead. Finally. "Professor—"

"—Albus," he corrected. "I'm sure my future self would disapprove, but you've matured beyond any Hogwarts-aged witch should have to and as far as I'm concerned my days of being your headmaster were over the moment Tom Riddle first took you."

"Albus," she said and shifted uncomfortably. "I'd like to jump forward tomorrow. This shorter jump wasn't as difficult and I feel ready."

"On that, I hope I can change your mind," he started and saw her protest coming. "Not because I don't think you should jump tomorrow. I trust your judgement. I hope that you'll stay a few days and let me take you to an event I think you'll appreciate."

She had been ready for a fight. When none came she did understand their relationship was no longer student and teacher. He trusted her to make her own choices. Then there was the possibility of going out to attend… really anything. "An event. At Hogwarts?"

"In London," he told her. "We have a new Minister of Magic. His swearing in ceremony is on Monday. He's the first muggle-born minister, and I thought that might be an historic moment you would find meaningful."

The prospect of attending the ceremony was overwhelming; however, some fear rose up at the thought of being in such a public setting. Exposed and a danger to the timeline. "How could I attend without risking everything?" she asked, hoping he had an answer.

He smiled. "On this point, I've had some help. Since Ignatius Tuft announced his resignation in January, I've attended several meetings in London. Every visit, I've checked in with Fiona to ensure time is mostly on track. This was her idea actually. Once it was clear Nobby Leach was on a short list for the new minister, she thought of you. We weren't sure of the timing, but started making plans in case your arrival coincided with his ceremony. We'll need to alter your appearance of course, and it will be for the best if you're not seen with me in case Tom is watching. Fiona will be hosting her "cousin" who's been attending Ilvermorny."

Hermione stood, unable to contain her excitement. "Are you sure? I can do this?"

He nodded, "The odds of Tom connecting you and Fiona are likely nonexistent. There will be thousands in attendance. Don't talk to anyone about the future and I think we can be back here Monday night if you want to leave then?"

She smiled. "When do we need to leave for London?"

"My fireplace will be connected to the floo network tomorrow. We'll go directly to Fiona's flat and spend the night there."

"I'll have time to rework the timer turner calculations tonight," she said, forgetting about the food.

"Alright. When you're ready, I'll just need to know your destination."

"Well, that's a little more complicated. I can't exactly tell you when this will happen to reduce the risk to the timeline, but the next time I see you, you'll be the headmaster," she explained, sat back down, and grabbed some pumpkin juice.

"So I won't be in this office," he connected the dots for her. Dumbledore looked at the small closet room through it's open door. "There's a library off the antechamber to the headmaster's office. I could request some time with the headmaster's book collection. You'll come with me under the cloak, leave from there. I'll have the intervening years to prepare a new room for you and a new alert charm to signal your arrival?"

"Yes, I think that would be the best solution. Thank you," she said and her mind wandered to 1967. Her intention wasn't to confront Voldemort. She was tasked with learning the real reason he returned to the school. No one believed it was really about a job posting. She suspected Voldemort's reasons involved the room of requirement. Her plan was to use the hidden room they made to see if he showed up. Nevertheless, there was a risk of facing him. She had to prepare for that possibility. Once again, she reminded herself that she did have the luxury of time.

Dumbledore sense she was holding something back. He sensed it during the cleansing spell. Whatever it was, she was a peace with it or the catharsis wouldn't have been so easy. He had to trust her. "I have some work to do for the headmaster," he said and stood. "If you need me, Gerty will find me. I'll be back in the morning to head to Fiona's."

"Before you leave, you don't have old copies of The Daily Prophet, do you? I'd like to read up on the events that led up to a new minister," she explained. This was the truth; however, she also wanted a better understanding of the environment that would allow Voldemort his rise to power.

Dumbledore nodded toward a cabinet in the corner. "I have most archived in there. It's organized by year. Do be careful with the drawers when you open them."

Once she was alone, Hermione looked curiously at the cabinet. It was easily two meters tall and three drawers wide. A small step stool leaned against the side to better reach the top contents. She studied the labels on the front. To her surprise each drawer seemed to hold ten years of newspapers. With some disbelief, she slowly pulled on a middle handle. The wooden drawer shot open and covered the span of the office in seconds. It was an impressive extension charm. She pushed it closed and found the most recent dates. This drawer was much shorter, containing less than two years of papers. Waving her wand over the stacks, she concentrated on any story containing the name Ignatius Tuft and then cast a summoning charm. The papers flew up and formed a stack at her feet. It looked like she was in for a long night.

~~/~~

Dumbledore found her sleeping in the chair by the fire, newspapers spread out around her. Scanning the headlines near the top of the stacks, he decided she had received quite the education overnight, but would require some correction on critical details. Particularly when it came to the Prophet's coverage of his duel with Grindelwald. With a flick of his wand, the papers flew across the room and filed themselves in their chronological order.

The noises from the cabinet woke Hermione. She cleared sleep from her eyes, rubbed at a kink in her neck. "Albus, I must have fallen asleep," she admitted shyly and looked around at the empty floor. "I couldn't stop reading last night."

"So I gathered. Did you learn all you could about Tuft and our new minister Nobby Leach?" he asked busying himself with some parchments.

She nodded, "I knew the salient details from A History of Magic, but the historical record doesn't capture the nuances." She waited for him to look up at her. "I'm sorry about Grindelwald."

His eyes softened. Perhaps she didn't need help reading between the lines in the salacious stories. "He was… it was complicated," he said and fingered his wand. "He's secured in the prison he built for his enemies. It's ironic, I would have thought the Global Wizarding War would have made us less susceptible to the current climate of pureblood rhetoric. I fear, especially in light of your current predicament, we still have lessons to learn."

"These conflicts don't rise up overnight. I can read these stories with the benefit of future knowledge, or you can read them with the benefit of our historical context. Very few witches and wizards have the advantage of either perspective to think objectively. You, and others like you, that lived through the wizarding war, can try to educate. The path we're on is inevitable. Even if I intervened," she said and stood. "Let me freshen up and I'll be ready to go in a few minutes."

Dumbledore continued to shuffle essays around until Hermione was behind the closed door of her room. He sat heavily. Since she came into his life, he'd spent sleepless nights wondering if he had empowered Tom Riddle because he had such guilt over Grindelwald. Or perhaps when he looked at Tom in that orphanage, had he seen his sister? Uncontained magic bubbling at the surface, misunderstood by all around him. Then again, maybe he saw himself, misguided…a young many in need of the mentorship of the right wizard to lead him away from destruction. He was forced to admit that it was likely a combination of all three. He could have just as easily ended up in Nurmengard prison, or worse, if their plans for the greater good could have succeeded. Tragedy intervened, changed his course. In some way, he had been optimistic that Tom Riddle could be directed toward a more productive path. Instead, he allowed him access to magic that could have destroyed the future.

When Hermione emerged, ready to travel, Albus accompanied her to Fiona's, and then excused himself to visit Diagon Alley. Protesters were clashing with supporters of Nobby Leach up and down the shop row. Diverting to Knockturn Alley, he slipped into a dingy storefront advertising various beast repellents. Catching the eye of the man behind the counter, he took out several galleons. "Do you have a portkey to Vienna scheduled?" he asked, stacking the coins in front of the man.

The shopkeeper considered Dumbledore and then the gold. Picking up the stack, he counted and nodded. A curtain behind the counter was pulled aside. Dumbledore followed and waited for further instruction. The man pointed to a small garden gnome on a shelf. "Ten minutes," a scratchy voice instructed and returned to his perch on the other side of the curtain.

Ten minutes to change his mind he thought absently. Patting his cloak pocket, he felt the rigidity of the elder wand. Finally, he gave a decisive nod and grabbed the portkey. The pull whisked him to the outskirts of Vienna, Austria. Without missing a beat, he turned on the spot and was standing in front of an imposing castle tower. In seconds, three wizards met him at the top of the stairs.

"Albus, is that you?" the middle guard asked, squinting his eyes.

"I'm afraid so, Fredric," he said, submitting to the magical scans. When the trio was satisfied he was who he said he was, Dumbledore stepped through the gates. "I need to speak with Grindelwald."

"This is highly unusual. You should have given us advanced notice to ensure he's subdued," Fredric continued with clear skepticism.

"I know, and apologize. We have another threat looming. I need information," he explained. "I'll surrender my wand."

With a sigh, Fredric pointed to a small wall of lockers. "Secure your wand. I'll take you up." Once unarmed, they started the long ascent up to the top of the tower. "I've heard rumors of a dark wizard here in Austria. He's from your country?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I'm afraid so," he said unwilling to elaborate. When he stood at the door to Grindelwald's cell, he waited to enter.

"Ten minutes and no longer," Fredric said. His wand came up; Dumbledore was pushed through the threshold which jiggled like a bowl of gelatin in response.

"Hello, old friend," a voice said from the corner.

Albus found the source and slid a rusty chair over. "Gellert," he said, unsure what else to say by way of greeting. Every option seemed contrived.

"Are you here to spring me?" Grindelwald asked dryly.

"Was there anything we could have done? Something I could have said that would have changed your mind," Dumbledore asked. The question was both vague and striking.

"Are you looking for absolution, Albus?" the frail man asked, leaning forward. "You want me to tell you there was nothing you could have done?"

"I want to know if I gave up on you too quickly. Was there a point in which I could have reached you, turned you away from your destructive path?"

Grindelwald considered the conflicted man in front of him. "Still so arrogant. So much like me. Certain you're right. Convinced you're the solution. That's why I loved you isn't it? I saw myself in your eyes."

They sat in silence. Wind rattled the small window across the cell.

"What do you really want to know?" the question was asked politely, still with an edge of impatience.

"If I encounter another wizard like you, would I be wasting my time trying to direct them away from the dark arts?" he asked, guarded.

"Have you?" Grindelwald asked. "Encountered another wizard like me?"

"Perhaps, another wizard drawn to the temptations of dark magic. Someone with an insatiable thirst for power, but a complete lack of empathy. An inability to comprehend love," he explained.

"So not entirely like me," Gillert answered with some sorrow in his eyes. "I can't tell you what you want to hear. When we were younger, would you have been able to convince me that the greater good was an incorrect philosophy? That implies that I think that today, Albus. Doesn't it."

"Did I help you further down that path?" The regret nearly a physical manifestation in the room.

Grindelwald stood, but made no movement toward Dumbledore. "If you're telling me you've met a young, idealistic wizard willing to experiment with dark magic in order to achieve an enlightened position? Then no, it wouldn't be a waste of your time to redirect that passion."

Dumbledore stood. Not sure if he really believed the words.

"But," Grindelwald stopped him before he could leave. "If you're telling me you've met Tom Riddle, and had the naïveté to think you could save us from his cruelty. Well, you're lying to yourself."

A buzzing in Dumbledore's ears reached a crescendo. His brain tried to make sense of this knowledge Gellert had. "When did you…"

"Meet Lord Voldemort? The summer before we dueled. He was ready to join the cause."

~~/~~

The next morning, Hermione followed Fiona to their seats near the front of the stage. She had long black hair that reached her waist and a dark, rich tan. Her new exotic features were thanks to Fiona's talented transfigurations work. Looking in the mirror, Hermione hadn't recognized herself. The effectiveness of the disguise quieted her fears. There was a small chance Voldemort would return for this occasion, to instigate additional riots. However, purebloods appeared to be protesting effectively enough without his help. Even within the main hall, wizards were being escorted out, having somehow gotten their signs passed the security. The magically animated boards flew in the air, destroyed by the event staff, but not before the messages were seen by everyone paying attention. _Purebloods United,_ _Stop Leach NOW,_ _Defend Our Heritage, _and _Silence Mudbloods._

Fiona leaned over, "More than a hundred ministry workers have already resigned, protesting Nobby Leach's appointment. Good riddance, as far as I'm concerned. They're making way for the more enlightened among us."

Hermione nodded but couldn't help the feeling of dread. The pureblood-only sentiment would only grow stronger apart from the establishment. This thought left her wondering if that wasn't for the best in the end. The prejudice out in the open was far easier to address than the subversive bigotry of her time. When it was hidden by euphemisms and implicit actions, the burden of proof was often left to the person being attacked or discriminated against. The offender could always hide behind the cover of a misunderstanding or accuse the victim of oversensitivity. On the other hand, this overt protest was what led to Grindelwald's war, and would eventually lead to Lord Voldemort's rise to power.

As the ceremony started, Hermione decided there would always be a faction that would revolt to social change. The best course of action was for those that could, find ways to soften the blow to those with perceived grievances while still paving the way for mutual progress. Those that violently fought against the societal growth would eventually be held accountable either by the law or the consequences of their actions, and the balance would hold as long as a group of dedicated witches and wizards of conscience held the line to protect the innocent. With that thought, she watched the first muggle-born wizard swear his allegiance to magical law and the wizarding community it was bound to protect.

Finally, the newly minted minister took to the podium, and addressed the challenge before him immediately. "I know my appointment is unsettling to some in our wizarding community. I am not so foolish to think those prejudices will change on merit alone, yet I do affirm my commitment to those that oppose me, to be their Minister of Magic as much as those that support me. We will not forsake our rich heritage; I will not abandon the legacy we honor today. However, I will not tolerate regressive sentiments that desire the subjugation of muggles or the establishment of a cast system amongst the wizarding community. We are purebloods, muggle-borns, and wizard-born muggles. We all have value and the ability to contribute to our future in a meaningful way."

Hermione listened as the speech continued and felt tears prick her eyes. It was an emotional moment for many around her. They all sensed the weight of the words and their place in history. It was impossible to fight the hope the speech inspired. That hope remained throughout the day and into the evening after their return to Hogwarts. It energized her for the task to come.

Meeting up with Dumbledore at Fiona's she sensed a heaviness in her friend. Not wanting to draw attention to it in mixed company, Hermione thanked Fiona for hosting them both. Stepping into the fireplace, she followed Albus back to his office. "Where did you go yesterday?" she asked, certain his errand was the cause for his current state of mind.

He looked at her, and studied her. She was perhaps the only person he could safely confide in. The only person that would understand the extent of his concern. "I went to Nurmengard," he confessed.

Hermione sat. "Did you talk to Grindelwald?"

"I did. Yes," he answered. "Tom Riddle sought him out. At the end of his seventh year."

"We should have considered he would have," she said, kicking herself mentally for not thinking about it. "One of the most powerful wizards of the day, willing to use dark magic. Why wouldn't Tom seek him out?"

"Perhaps I was too blinded by my own failings. It never occurred to me."

"What did Tom want from him?"

"He was ready to join the fight, but Grindelwald for all his faults, was a seer. Whatever he saw in Tom made Gellert turn him away. He didn't elaborate," Dumbledore explained. "I don't know what to do with this knowledge."

Hermione stood and placed a hand on his arm. "Maybe it will make more sense in the future?" she offered and turned him toward her. "Are you ok?" She saw the tears welling up in his eyes. She didn't entirely understand what was going on, but she didn't need to in order to comfort him. Wrapping her arms around him, she let him weep for this relationship shattered.

After Dumbledore retired for the evening, she wondered what more she could do to help him. It did feel as if she was about to abandon him. Deciding she would reassess his emotional state in the morning and use the rest of the evening to prepare for 1967. She reread the Occlumency section of the Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook he had left her and considered her options. She needed to see the hidden room again to make sure it was still there and concealed while she had time to do something about it if it wasn't. Slipping on the invisibility cloak, she made her way to the seventh floor. Before she was even in front of the familiar spot, the ancient door presented itself. Stepping into the room she waited. The stillness in the room was antithetical to her experiences. Moving quickly to the hidden door, she jumped inside as if expecting an attack from behind. Sitting she looked around the small space. It wasn't meant for a prolonged stay. She didn't think she would need to stay concealed for more than a few hours. But what if he asks for a different room? Sitting back, she concentrated on the training space Dumbledore's Army had used. The room she was in didn't change, but through the secret window she saw the open space with the announcement board and the training dummies. It lifted her spirits. Stepping out, she examined the postings. There was a schedule of spells they planned to learn before they had been discovered. A list of classmates that successfully summoned a patronus and the form it took. Seeing her name under Harry's she felt a rush of warmth. Using the memories, she took out her new wand said, "_Expecto patronum._" The force of love and friendship, coupled with the magic in the wood and core of her wand summoned the brightest patronus she thought she had ever seen. The otter swam playfully around the room, lighting up every corner. It was the injection of hope she needed.

Returning to her room with renewed confidence, she decided a good night's sleep was the most important thing she could do to prepare.


	12. The Collision Problem

**A/N: **Many thanks RemisGrl, Jessi Granger, and Ronnie R15 for the reviews, you guys keep me motivated to continue. This chapter is a bit of a turning point, the action should pick up from here to the end. A warning, there is some violence here, and allusion again to sexual assault… as always there will be nothing explicit.

**Chapter 12: The Collision Problem **

**February 10, 1967, Friday**

Landing in the library added to her typical disorientation. She started to fall, until strong arms caught her firmly. She felt weightless as she was moved to a different room and set gently on a soft cushioned bed. Then she felt the familiar pressure of the hyperbaric bubble. As she settled back, she thought she was losing her eyesight until she heard Dumbledore command Shiloh to leave the bubble. It made her smile. During her jump the creature would jump in and out of her speed envelope playfully. She appreciated the company during the lonely journey but had to double her concentration so as to not get distracted by the swooping shadow. Now it seemed the headmaster's protective shield was also no match for Shiloh.

"What's the date?" she asked before sleep claimed her.

"Friday, February tenth. Nineteen sixty-seven," he said and watched her drift off. He had only been headmaster for a year, he already felt the responsibility to protect her was heightened. It was possible the owl he got a week prior was the ultimate cause. Tom Riddle wanted to meet with him on Monday. The timing didn't sit well and he requested a visit with Fiona to consult the Tempus Semita. He wasn't sure if Hermione's arrival precipitated Voldemort's request or if she timed her jump to be there when he came to him. He suspected the latter, but had to rule out the former if he was going to keep the meeting at Hogwarts. Fiona would be there in the morning and he would have some time with Hermione that evening to assess the situation.

He busied himself with writing. He had reports due to the ministry, teacher assessments, syllabus approvals, OWL and NEWT scheduling… Then there were his duties to the ICW and the Wizenagamot. The tasks were endless. He let the monotony take his mind away from the concern. It wasn't until he saw Hermione begin to stir that he set aside his work and summoned Gerty.

"Yes, Master Albus. What can Gerty do for you sir?" she asked and looked at the bed. "Oh! Master Hermione is here again. Is she alright?"

"It seems to be just the usual sickness from her travels. Would you get dinner ready in my courtyard? She'll need the fresh air when she wakes up."

"Of course! I'll make her favorite pastries for dessert," she said excitedly and apparated to the kitchen.

Dumbledore lowered the hyperbaric bubble. Hermione's eyes opened, he watched her take in the new room. He spent more time forming the space to meet her needs. There was a potions room for her to practice for her exams. The bathroom rivaled the prefects' with a small pool-sized tub. He even convinced Newt to make her a meadow along a lake that was connected by large patio doors. The result was a suite filled with natural light and hopefully a sanctuary for her to retreat to. He suspected he went overboard, he justified it by reminding himself she had more than a month left confined to the space.

"Headmaster?" she asked with a smile.

"I am, but you should continue to call me Albus," he told her and helped her sit up.

"Where am I?" she asked taking in the setting sun through the glass doors.

"Your new room. That," he said pointing to the scenic view, "is a gift from your good friend Newt Scamander."

Her smile lit up her entire face. "It's lovely. Will he be by this week so I can thank him?"

"I'll ask. We are getting a visit from Fiona," he said and watched the smile fade. "Everything is ok. Let's talk about it over dinner?" When she nodded, he opened another door to show her the bathroom. "If you want to freshen up. Gerty is preparing our meal in my courtyard. When you're ready, ring the bell and she'll bring you up."

Hermione watched his retreating form, certain he already suspected she timed this particular jump to coincide with Voldemort's visit. When she stepped into the bathroom she was shocked. "Whoa," she said and eyed the bath with longing. She didn't have time to indulge, instead promised herself she'd make use of the lavish tub that night.

After a quick shower, she summoned Gerty. "It's good to see you, Master Hermione," the house elf beamed. "Gerty still has your letter safely tucked away."

"Thank you, Gerty. Professor Dumbledore said you can bring me to his courtyard?" Hermione quickly changed the subject. She didn't know how much Gerty understood about what was happening and she felt a rush of sadness thinking about Harry worrying about her. Even for a few days.

"This way," she said and led Hermione up the spiral stairs behind the gargoyle. At the top, instead of turning right toward the office, they moved left and out a door she hadn't seen the few occasions she had been in the headmaster's tower. Hermione was surprised the open space wasn't covered in snow. Stepping out into a small patch of grass, surrounded by flowers and trees, there was no chill in the air. It was a perfect square patch of perpetual spring. The moon was low in the sky. A fully set table was ready for them in the center of the square. "Gerty made Master Hermione's favorites for dessert," she said with pride.

"That was very thoughtful, Gerty," Hermione praised and then spotted Dumbledore near the edge, leaning against a low stone wall. "It seems being headmaster has some perks?" she called out.

He smiled. "I'm not sure it makes up for the paperwork," he admitted and turned to the table. Taking out two butter beers from a small box, he handed her an ice cold bottle. "Shiloh continued to keep the other swooping shadows away?"

"Yes. She didn't though," she explained taking a drink. "She wouldn't stay away."

"She did the same with your hypoxia treatment. I think I hurt her feelings when I shooed her away." They sat in silence for a time, enjoying the warm breeze magically moving over the courtyard. "Hermione…"

"I knew Voldemort was coming this week," she quickly admitted. "I couldn't tell you in nineteen sixty-two."

"Well, I admit it's a relief to know he didn't make the appointment knowing you were here. I'm not sure I am at all comfortable with you both being here on the school grounds. I wonder if I should move the meeting to Hogsmeade?"

Hermione controlled her response. She didn't want to raise suspicion. "I don't think it's a good idea to make such a drastic change. Who knows who would see you two together. How those interactions would change the future. I'm not here to confront him, if that's what you're worried about? We picked this date so that I could get your impressions. See if there are details that have been lost to waning memories."

"Waning memories… that's a nice way to call me old," he said with some humor, still clearly apprehensive. "He's been out of the country this whole time. We have no idea where he's been or what he's been doing. There are rumors of course, only rumors. I can't imagine why he wants to meet with me other than to either get information about you or use this opportunity to get something he needs here."

Of course she knew more about Voldemort's lost years, but not much more. "I honestly can't fill in those details. Not because I can't, because it's still not entirely known in our time what he was up to. We're hoping he'll say something that may not make sense now, that could shed light on this for your future self."

"This date was always in your plan." It wasn't a question and his words were laced with some hurt.

"It was, yes. I originally thought I would try for an seven-year jump. The shorter jump was unplanned and really was done to make sure I would be safe from the swooping shadows. This won't be the last time there will be a jump to a specific date, but you need to know it is to protect your future not a reflection of my trust in you… Albus."

He smiled at the use of his first name. "I know you're right. It won't stop me from being concerned."

"So tell me what Mr. Scamander has been up to?" she asked changing the subject before he asked her a question she didn't want to answer truthfully.

~~/~~

The next morning Fiona arrived. Hermione and Dumbledore met her in his library. When the Semita was placed on the reading desk, Hermione gasped. It wasn't gently rocking this time. It was violently shaking. "Can either of you explain this?" Fiona asked, not needing to clarify further.

"Is the Tempus Scriptum doing the same thing?" Hermione asked reaching out to open the book.

Fiona looked at her with some surprise. "No. These changes are not global. From what I can gather there is one single event… your arrival here in this time Hermione… that has the potential to make permanent changes. The Semita is writing, erasing, and rewriting those changes," she said and slapped a hand on the cover before it could be opened. "This is unprecedented and I don't know if either of you should know what's changing.

"If we can't know what changing, how can we stabilize the timeline?" Hermione asked with some frustration. "Why would the past be changing?"

"That's my question. Did you make a change in the past that is affecting this moment?" Fiona asked more calmly.

Hermione looked at Dumbledore. "Well, yes," she said. "I changed my jump dates because of some complications while traveling."

"Something about that change is creating a ripple I can't explain and I need to explain it before the ministry intervenes."

"Oh…" Hermione breathed out as she had a horrible thought.

"What?" Dumbledore asked, disconcerted that she seemed to be a few steps ahead of both of them. His heightened concerns over Voldemort's visit was most likely getting in the way.

"I don't think this has to do with me," she said, wishing she was wrong. "Not directly anyway."

Dumbledore tried to follow her logic and then realization dawned on him and he understood her hesitancy. "The swooping shadows."

"It's not their fault!" Hermione spoke up quickly. She knew what the ministry would do if they thought the creatures were a threat. "I displaced them."

"I need someone to explain," Fiona said, when no one spoke, she continued. "I'm not the enemy and I can't help if I don't know what's going on."

"There are creatures the ministry is hiding because they created them. They live out of phase of our time, but can enter our time. Anyone in the same room when this happens runs the risk of being frozen in time until the creatures phase back out," Dumbledore explained.

"We were concerned that they could interfere with my jump if they stopped my time while traveling. One of the creatures traveled with me this last jump and kept the others away. I think they left their phase and changed the past. And I think they're still in the past," Hermione finished. The trio shared a moment of silence, contemplating the situation. "Shiloh," Hermione finally called out.

The swooping shadow appeared circling her. Hermione concentrated her thoughts on the situation, hoping it Shiloh would understand. She needed her to go back to the others, return to their phase, and then hope the timeline would have evened out. Hermione reached out her hand and gently stroked her back.

Fiona and Dumbledore looked on until the graceful creature suddenly disappeared. Then everyone turned to the Semita. Several minutes passed until finally the rocking stopped, and the book finally returned to its subtle sway. Fiona placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder, "Nicely done."

Dumbledore smiled. "I'll send an owl to Newt tonight. Perhaps, Fiona, you and Mr. Scamander can come to an agreement on how to manage the Swooping Shadows in the future?"

Fiona gathered up the book. Dumbledore stopped her. "Fiona, I need to know if anything surround Tom Riddle has recently changed," he said, making a point to avoid his new alias.

Looking skeptically at the headmaster, she put the book back down. "This is why you wanted to meet?"

"Yes, I didn't know about the impact of the swooping shadows. Tom has requested a meeting, and the timing of Hermione's arrival was… suspect. Until we had a chance to talk, I didn't know if, perhaps, he has learned about her travels, even figured out a way to know when she would be at Hogwarts," he said seriously. "I informed the minister of his requested visit. They have aurors on alert in case some intervention is needed."

"We've been watching the historical record for Voldemort very closely," Fiona admitted. "Nothing has come up. No hint that's he's tampered with time anymore since leaving the school."

The news didn't ease his concerns. He knew it was possible to change the future or the past without leaving a trace. He shook his head. None of it sat right for him.

Fiona put the Semita in her bag. "Hermione, when are you traveling next?"

"Next Thursday," she said, avoiding the discomfort in the room.

"I hope to see you soon and under less chaotic circumstances," Fiona said and moved to leave.

"Fiona, you can use my fireplace, the ministry has asked that I temporarily connect it to their network while this threat is active. I'll show you up," he said. "Hermione, I left some homework in the potions room for you. We really should get back to your studies."

~~/~~

Hermione spent the rest of the weekend working on her advanced potions, trying to keep her mind off the potential complications of Voldemort's visit. She still had one major detail to work out. It would be easy enough to get to the room of requirement before Voldemort arrived, but if he went to the room after his meeting she needed a reason she couldn't meet with Dumbledore immediately. When he arrived to check in on her work she decided to find an opening. "What time is the meeting?"

Dumbledore looked up from her cauldron. He had been purposefully avoiding the topic. "He'll be here at 4pm. I won't be able to come down right away, you'll be safe in here. The ministry wants an update as soon as possible, but I wasn't comfortable leaving the school with Tom so close, so they're sending a representative here through the floo network. It's why I allowed the connection."

Thrilled with her luck, she made a note of the time. Even though Voldemort was expected at 4pm she couldn't chance missing him if he came early. She had two hours.

"This is an exceptional sample of draught of peace. Well done," he said enthusiastically. "We'll work on skele-gro tomorrow, why don't you read up on the ingredients. I'll come down tonight as soon as I can."

After he left, she had one last precaution. Hermione rung the bell to summon Gerty. The house elf appeared. "Gerty, I have a request."

"Anything, Master Hermione," she said with a tone of excitement.

"Would you like to take a bath tonight in my private tub?"

Those big eyes looked from Hermione to the door to her room. "Master Hermione would allow Gerty to use her bathroom?"

Hermione nodded and knelt down. "Could you come at 4:30 and stay in the bathroom until I get back?"

A brief moment of confusion flashed across Gerty's face. "I can. Where will Master Hermione be?"

"I just need to go see to something. If the headmaster stops by, could you keep the door closed the water running." Now Gerty was apprehensive. "Please Gerty. This is very important and I'll explain it all to you and Professor Dumbledore when I'm done."

"It's important," Gerty repeated. "Ok, thank you."

"Brilliant, thanks," Hermione said and moved to grab her old wand, a book and the invisibility cloak. "Feel free to stay here if you want, spend time outside. Just make sure you're in the bathroom by 4:30."

"Yes," she said and watched Hermione disappear beneath the cloak.

Guilt for not telling Dumbledore what she had planned followed her through the halls. Side stepping a small gathering of students outside McGonagall's office, she heard the familiar voice. "Molly Prewett, Arthur Weasley if I catch you snogging outside the library again, you'll serve detentions every weekend until you graduate," the stern voice lectured. "Separate detentions."

Hermione couldn't help her smile. She watched the pair run off down the hall, clasping hands right before they turned a corner. Silently, she climbed the stairs to the seventh floor, to the room of requirement. When she settled in to the blind in the room, she wished they had created a bigger secret room. She was in for a long wait.

~~/~~

Voldemort left the headmaster's office without looking back. He hadn't been surprised by the outcome, but if he was being honest with himself he did feel some disappointment. There was no doubt that rumors of his deeds had gotten back to Dumbledore. The laws his former professor had been responsible for didn't just impede his plans, they infuriated him. When he returned to London, he found the social climate wasn't as primed as he expected for his plans to reshape a pureblood dominated society. The fact that Albus Dumbledore was at the heart of so many of the obstacles in place was not a surprise. What had come as an unpleasant development was learning Dippet was no longer the headmaster. Manipulating Dippet would have been much easier than convincing Dumbledore his motives were pure. After all, Hogwarts was still the only home he had. Despite the fact that he hadn't really come to get a job, Dumbledore's arrogance had lost him an opportunity to see what a school could teach students unhindered by decades of sentimental notions of civility. Dark magic, they called it. Of course they had to label it, those in power always had to label the things they didn't understand.

Climbing the familiar stairs to the seventh floor, his anger grew. He would never be accepted even though he was more powerful than any of them. Even though he had more to teach the students than any wizard of the age. Instinctually, his hand went to the pocket of his cloak that contained his fifth horcrux. The ministry wanted this particular piece of magic lost to the sands of time. Such a short sighted decision, he thought standing in front of a bare stretch of stone. Thinking hard about a place to hide his treasured possession, a door appeared. As it opened it revealed a vast cavern full of forgotten things. Piles of books and crystal vials. Cabinets and shelves. Broomsticks and common objects turned into elicit inventions. Centuries of student treasures long forgotten. He moved quickly through the maze to a spot he knew well. Several of his inventions were displayed on a small table. There he carefully placed the diadem. It would be one of the safest horcrux he was sure. Standing, admiring his collection, he closed his eyes again and thought of the time chamber. This too had clearly been untouched as it materialized around him. His notes remained pinned to the board over the workbench. Veritas serum stood in bottles neatly aligned. The basin that once held the thread was now barren and dusty. Anger swelled again.

Quickly turning, he shot a stunning charm wordless through the far wall. A muffled thud told him his suspicions had been correct. The girl was there, watching him. He opened the secret door and saw her lying face up in the small space. "You didn't think I would find your hiding spot? You didn't think I would spend days in this room trying to figure out how you bested me?" he said, casting a hover charm to move her into the main chamber and away from her wand which was discarded next to the chair.

He dropped her on the table and smirked as regained her control. "Tell me, Hermione. How is it possible that you look like you haven't aged a day after all this time?" he hissed.

~~/~~

Hermione had been watching from her blind as Voldemort had disappeared around a wall of books. She couldn't see what he was doing and she had been considering whether or not to risk putting on the cloak and leaving her hiding place when the room on the other side of the mirror changed to the room she feared. At least this space gave her an unobstructed view. Whatever he had done in the other manifestation of the room of requirement, she would have to investigate after he left the school. Then without warning she saw him turn and felt herself falling as her world blurred.

The abrupt termination of the hover charm jarred her back to reality. She heard his question but couldn't process it. He lashed out with his wand, leaving a gash along her cheek. Hermione tried to get up, to get away, but was quickly bound tightly, her arms pulled above her head.

"Answer me!" he yelled. "Where have you been these past twenty years? You're moving through time, aren't you?" When she didn't answer, he pointed his wand and said "_Legilimens._"

She was ready and that brought her the calm she needed to blank her mind. She wouldn't use her pleasant memories until she needed to.

His frustration was immediately clear. It weakened his efforts.

"You've been practicing I see. So you have been somewhere long enough to prepare. Somewhere you were able to have my mark removed too," he said, his fingers tracing the bare forearm where the ior rune had been. "We can fix that. I wish I could give you my real mark, but only my most trusted Death Eaters are honored with such things."

"You mean your dark mark can only be taken willingly and I would never take your mark," she corrected. The sudden revelation that she, by the simple virtue of being from his future, had more knowledge than him gave her added confidence.

He wasn't pleased. "You flatter yourself, thinking I would allow you access to my secret network. I have been practicing too. My consuming curse is potent… _Ior torris_," he said.

The pain took her breath away. Stars exploded in her vision. Claws wrapped around her arm, tore through her chest. She couldn't swallow the screams. Finally, the sharp pain quieted to a throb and she let the tears fall.

"I want to know how you're traveling through time," he said slowly and purposefully. "Or I'll rip this mark from your arm and curse you again." He knew he didn't have the luxury of time. Dumbledore would no doubt know he hadn't left the grounds yet, but he assumed he had a least an hour before he would come looking. As he magically grabbed hold of the dark tendrils, he pulled up to make his point. Then he was in her memories, trying to find the right engrams. Then, he saw her standing over him in his sixth year. "Yes. Where did you go after you broke free?"

As he watched her turn to leave the room, she ran into the south tower where Harry Potter stood waiting for her. She expertly changed his access. The love and friendship burst back on him. He let go of the curse and exited her mind. "_Crucio._"

The curse started with the familiar fire running along her nerves, but then it crescendoed into a massive spasming of her muscles. Every skeletal muscle jerked tight. After what felt like an eternity, the curse stopped. He was in her memories again, still she refused to leave the safety of the south tower. In a tantrum of frustration, Voldemort send a bullet of energy at her. It pierced her right shoulder and exited, shattering her shoulder blade.

"You want to hide in that memory?" he asked, a waver in his voice betrayed the air of calmness he wanted to portray. "I'll change it." Voldemort jumped up on the table, straddling her. He was in her head, changing Harry. Suddenly they both saw her friend attacking her. Kissing her, groping her. As this played out, he reached for the button of her jeans, hoping the physical threat would be heightened.

Hermione felt rough hands grabbing at her, tearing her clothes. The helplessness was overwhelming, but her love for Harry wouldn't allow her to believe it was real. In a final act of protection, a barrier of energy burst from her, throwing Voldemort off her and across the room.

Then she was in his mind. The magic had rebounded the legilimency spell. She saw him examining a locket with a serpent mark on the top. In front of him was a woman, begging for her life. As he killed her, he recited a complex spell and she felt the power course through the lock in his hand. Then flashes of others begging for their lives until he ripped his mind away.

They were both breathing heavily. "Whatever this is can't protect you from the unforgivable curses," he said and hit her with a cruciatus curse so powerful she felt bones breaking under the constriction of her own muscles. Her damaged shoulder screamed in protest but was soon drown out. She fought to stay conscious. If he was going to use the killing curse, she would look him in the eye. "You're lucky I still need you in the future. You run away. However you're doing it. I'll see you again when you're more disposable and I will learn the magic you're using to travel in time," he told her staying clear of the energy barrier she had erected around her with wandless magic. As he left her behind, she let the pain consume her and she welcomed the darkness.

~~/~~

Dumbledore found the door to Hermione's suite unlocked. After knocking and receiving no answer, he hesitantly stepped inside. Starting to call out her name before entering, he heard the water running in the bathroom. The meeting with the ministry representative hadn't gone as long as he expected, so he wasn't surprised that she thought she had time before his visit. Not wanting to interrupt her, he hastily conjured a note requesting she join him in the courtyard and sent it floating at eye level outside the bathroom door and headed that way himself.

Stepping out into the green space, he found the conjured warmth comforting. Leaning over the barrier he considered his meeting with Lord Voldemort. Whatever the dark wizard had been up to, it changed him. Physically. Dumbledore couldn't imagine what dark magic he was experimenting with that would have altered him so severely. He was losing his humanity. Despite this, he still carried with him the arrogance that was uniquely human. There wasn't a second of the meeting that Dumbledore believed Voldemort wanted a job at Hogwarts, so what was he doing, he wondered. Testing the new headmaster? Looking for Hermione? As hard as it was, he dismissed the latter. Hermione was here because of the meeting, it happened in the future before she was ever a factor.

He needed a drink and some food he decided. "Gerty?"

There was an unexpected delay in the house elf's response which confused him. "Ger-" Gerty appeared in front of the headmaster winded and dripping wet. "Gerty, what happened?"

"Did something happen, Master Albus? Gerty was just taking a bath like she was told," she explained and then looked horrified. "Oh no! She said not to… she said she would tell you."

As the house elf rambled on, Dumbledore was starting to understand what was happening. Fear coursed through him. Then a bang caught his attention across the grounds. Voldemort was there, rushing across the footpath bridge, and apparated as soon as he reached the boundary of the school's protection. "What has she done?" he asked himself and bolted toward the exit. He knew where he was going the minute his foot hit the spiral steps. The room of requirement. Reaching the main hallway, he stopped short and saw Minerva heading his way.

"Headmaster, Lord Voldemort was here!" she exclaimed. "He just ran past my office. Where are you going?"

Dumbledore stopped and considered the situation. He might need her help. "Minerva, listen to me. We need to check on something that may elicit many questions. I need you to trust me to answer all your questions when I can, but for now, can you come with me and do as I say? Do you trust me?"

She looked offended that he even needed to ask. "Of course I trust you."

It was all he needed and he continued on his hurried pace to an ancient door on the seventh floor. It opened for him immediately and every fear he had was realized. Seeing Hermione lying still on the stone table created a panic he'd only felt after seeing his sister's still form. "No," he breathed out and heard Minerva gasp. Rushing forward, he encountered the barrier with such force, he was knocked backward and off his feet. "What has he done?"

McGonagall surveyed the situation and stamped down all the questions she promised not to ask. "I think it's coming from her. I've seen barriers like this before from young students who don't have control of their magic yet."

Dumbledore took out his wand, he needed to know her condition. When he cast his charm, a parchment appeared reporting his medical condition: elevated heart rate, shortness of breath, increased adrenaline levels. Forcing himself to calm down, he considered the problem as objectively as he could.

"She needs to feel safe," Minerva supplied, they both knew that would be a difficult task. The battered girl was clearly unconscious, blood pooling under her right shoulder. The only thing that gave them both hope was the rise and fall of her chest.

"Shiloh!" Dumbledore cried out. He didn't mean to sound so out of control, but it was how he felt. The black mass appeared outside the room. It floated at the threshold, refusing to enter. It was curious; however, he didn't have time to wonder why the creature was apprehensive about entering. He walked to her, and held his hand out. He needed Shiloh to get through the barrier and help Hermione. Make her feel safe. As the swooping shadow bumped his hand, he knew she understood. With a blink, she was gone and then inside the barrier, hovering over Hermione. The creature screamed with pain, confirming his fears that his charge was gravely injured. Despite the pain, Shiloh nudged Hermione.

After several minutes, the barrier disappeared and so did Shiloh. "Hermione," Dumbledore said, approaching cautiously. Casting the medical assessment charm again. The parchment appeared and grew. He swallowed hard, removing the bindings. "Hermione," he said again and smoothed back her hair from her face. Her eyes flickered open, a groan of pain escaped.

"Albus," she said in a hushed whisper. Her brow creased.

Dumbledore made a copy of the chart and handed the original to Minerva. "Go to Madam Pomfrey. Give this to her, and meet us in your office," he said.

"Headmaster," she started with disbelief. "This girl needs to go to Saint Mungo's."

"She can't. If Poppy insists, we can consider the hospital wing, but no one can know about Hermione. It has to stay between the three of us. Go, please. Your office is closer; I'll get her there."

The war played out in her eyes, Dumbledore waited. He knew he was asking for more than he had a right to. Finally, she took medical chart and turned on her heel. Focusing again on Hermione, he saw she was fighting the darkness. "Hermione, stay with me. Do you hear me?"

"I'm sorry," she started.

He stopped her apology. "Shh, you're ok now. You're safe," he told her and skimmed the chart for himself. He had to move her, and needed to know the extent of her injuries. His mouth went dry.

"Help me," she pleaded, tears falling now from the corner of her eyes.

"I will, I'm here," he promised. "I need to move you." When she protested the thought he understood. "I know it hurts. I'll use a hover charm and a stretcher, but I need to move your arms." At that thought, her breathing changed. He worried she would hyperventilate. "Shh, I know, I know your shoulder is bad. I'll be gentle and quick, but it must be stabilized before I move you."

Finally, she relented and he cradle her right arm. As he moved it, her screams echoed off the walls and ripped through his heart. When he switched to her left arm, he saw the curse and knew her pain was just beginning. He had watched the toll of its removal in her memories.

Once she was in a better position, he conjured a stretcher and gentle floated her onto it.

"The cloak and my wand. They're still in the secret room," she told him.

Dumbledore walked over to the hidden door and opened it. Her wand was laying carelessly on the floor. A book next to an overturned chair and under it, the invisibility cloak. It was clear she was taken by surprise. After gathering up the items, he returned to her side. He placed the wand next to her left hand and covered her legs with the cloak. He would cover her completely if he heard anyone coming, but wanted to keep an eye on her in case her condition changed. Moving down the stairs was slow and steady despite his urge to run. Seeing the door to his old office seemed like a relief. Once inside, he hovered her over to the closet door, and opened it to reveal her old room. He was glad he hadn't removed the extension charm.

As he got her settled in the bed, he heard the commotion in the outer officer as Minerva and Poppy entered. "Where are they?" Pomfrey asked.

"In here," he called out, then turned to Hermione. "I'm going to talk to them, try and explain this without giving too much information. Will you be ok for a few minutes?"

She nodded and saw the two women look on in surprise through the closet door. But before he left her side, she grabbed his hand. "I know you're angry."

He saw the unshed tears and knew these weren't tears of pain. "I am. I'm angry at Tom. I'm angry at myself. For making you think you couldn't tell me why you were here," he said referring to both his current and future self. "And I can't help but think you knew this was a possibility. Why else would did you have such an urgency for those occlumency lessons? Why convince Gerty to lie for you?"

"I didn't plan to confront him. He knew about the room…" she said trailing off as the memories brought fresh fear. "And I didn't ask Gerty to lie, I couldn't risk you coming to look for me until Voldemort was gone."

"I believe you, Hermione. I'm not mad at you, I'm hurt you felt you had to do this alone," he tried to comfort and looked down at the hand that gripped his so tightly. The curse screamed up at him. He feared that would be the first priority despite the more critical injuries. He knew the longer it lingered the harder it would be to remove. "Rest now, I'll be right back."

Meeting the pair of women in the center of the office, Dumbledore wasn't sure how much to share.

Pomfrey didn't give him a chance as she held up the chart. "Headmaster, this girl must go to the hospital. I wouldn't even consider treating her in the hospital wing, let alone that room," she scolded, pointing to the closet.

"Poppy, this is a delicate situation. Her name is Hermione, and she's not from this time," he started. "She's from thirty years in the future and only two people at the ministry know about her." This silenced everyone as the situation sunk in. "We need to try to stabilize her here, and if you think she needs your ward, we can make arrangements to conceal her there, but Saint Mungo's is out of the question."

"From the future," Pomfrey started, not quite believing him.

"He's right," McGonagall spoke up, surprising everyone, including herself. "She has my ring. It was made by my mother for me after I was sorted. The only way that girl would have it is if I gave it to her," she explained and held up her hand that was adorned with the Gryffindor ring. "And I haven't. Yet."

The matron finally relented. "Ok, we can't stand here fighting this. That girl-"

"Hermione Granger," Dumbledore supplied.

"Ms. Granger needs immediate medical attention. Let's see how she responds and we'll reassess," she said and then her face hardened. "Headmaster, I must insist that I make the treatment decisions."

"Agreed," he said and then thought of the curse. "With one exception. She has been afflicted with a consuming curse in the form of a rune on her arm. I suspect it's not the most critical injury, but it cannot be removed while she's under the influence of any pain relieving potion or sleeping draught. And it can't be allowed to linger or it will kill her as surely as her other injuries."

"Fine, the curse first, and then that shoulder must be repaired for her own comfort," Pomfrey said as she moved to the bedside.

~~/~~

Harry couldn't sleep. It was early, the sun still wasn't up. Snow was falling outside his window. The bed squeaked under his shifting weight. He dressed quickly, looked at his books and grabbed everything he would need for class that day. He didn't want to go while Hermione was still somewhere in the past, staying in his room wondering and waiting wasn't productive either. As he walked into the common room, he saw his head of house speaking in hushed tones with the headmaster. This stopped him short as if he hit an invisible wall. "What happened?" he asked.

The two adults turned to him, their faces grave. "Harry, come and sit," McGonagall said with sympathy.

Harry wanted to protest, but found his legs were weak and he wanted to sit. He made his way to the chair and sat heavily. "Tell me. Is she alright?"

"I don't know yet, Harry," Dumbledore admitted honestly. "We just this morning had these new memories. She's in 1967."

"The date Voldemort met with you to ask for a job. He hurt her?"

McGonagall took his clenched hand in both of hers. "He did but Madam Pomfrey was… is… taking care of her. It just happened in her time so we don't know everything yet. But…"

"But what? What do you know?" Harry was aggravated.

"Madam Pomfrey kept her medical charts. Its serious, Harry," Dumbledore explained. "He tried to get information, he wanted to know how she was moving through time. I helped her prepare, practice occlumency. He didn't get any information, but she had to endure significant torture."

"I want to see the file," he said standing.

"Harry, you know you can't," Minerva started. "Even if we could let you see it, it's still unfolding in the past. We need to wait for an update before we know anything for certain."

"Why did you put her in this position. You asked her to get information from that visit," he said, lashing out at Dumbledore. "And if she makes it through this, how many more times will she be in his crosshairs before she comes back to me?"

"Harry, I'm sorry."

"Are you?" he accused.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall warned. "This is a terrible situation. You know the person who deserves the blame and your contempt is Lord Voldemort."

She was right, he knew. Looking at his headmaster, he saw he was feeling enough guilt for both of them. "What can be done?" he asked, needing to take some action, knowing the answer.

"Stay close, we'll update you when we remember more," Minerva told him and he was grateful she didn't tell him to go to class. Then they heard the unmistakable sound of the rest of Gryffindor waking up, preparing for the day.

"I'd like to take a walk before anyone comes down."

"Of course, Harry," Dumbledore said. "We'll be in Madam Pomfrey's office when you're ready."


	13. The Dilation of Time

**A/N:** Apologies for delaying this story. I had a lot of real life priorities that required writing and was burned out. I also got a little stuck editing the next few chapters… I didn't like how plodding the story had become. I think I got over the hump and am making some changes to some of the direction.

I am super grateful for those you reviewed and haven't given up on this story. Specifically: **yawnara, imiodarhab,****chubbycherub, MannysBookDragon, BeccaSullivanWrites, Ronnie R15, ArtimuosJackson, Saki-Hime, Jessi Granger,****blacksbear, **and **RemisGrl**. You guys were the reason I felt a real need to return to editing and wrap this story up.

**Chapter 13: The Dilation of Time**

Madam Pomfrey slid a chair next to Hermione's bed. "Hermione, I'm Madam Pomfrey. I understand you're not from here. I suspect you're still a Hogwarts' student where you're from so that makes you my responsibility. In any time. I'm going to get you on your feet again." Her words were comforting and assertive at the same time. It helped calm Hermione. "I don't want there to be any surprises for you, and want you to understand the seriousness of your injuries. You have a penetrating wound to your right shoulder that was caused by a _lancea_ spell. The energy lance went under your clavicle and hit your scapula as it exited. Your shoulder blade is completely shattered and we'll need to use a mending charm. The cruciatus curse was very powerful, the muscle contractions it induced were severe. Both tibias and fibulas have crush fractures, your left hip has an avulsion fracture which happens when a muscle or tendon pulls a piece of the pelvic bone away, four ribs were fractured, and your right ulna and radial bones have stress fractures. You have extensive muscle and tendon damage and internal bleeding as a result. And then there's this consuming curse that the headmaster has indicated is the most urgent infliction."

Hermione listened to the assessment. Knowing the extent of the damage helped her pinpoint the sources of pain.

The matron stopped and looked up at her colleagues. "Can you both give us a minute?" The request took everyone by surprise, but as promised they respected the authority. Once the room was clear, Poppy's face changed from concern to sadness. "Hermione. I notice your jeans are undone. Did he sexually assault you?"

It wasn't a question she expected or was ready to answer. Honestly, she didn't know how to answer it. Remembering Harry's hands on her, she knew there would be emotional fallout, just couldn't explain. "He didn't… but…"

"I can help you. I need to understand what happened," she gently pushed.

"He was in my mind, trying to find specific memories. He changed one of my memories. A time with a boy, with my boyfriend. Nothing happened… at the time… Voldemort changed the memory. I… he made Harry attack me. I said no, he didn't stop… I know he didn't do anything to me. It's just that now, in my mind, he did." Tears swelled in her eyes but stubbornly refused to fall. "It was the memory I used to defend myself against the legilimency. He took it from me."

"Ok, love. We'll help you," she said standing. "I'm going to magic some hospital scrubs onto you, and we'll take a look at the curse."

"Albus should know how to remove it. I'd like him to do it. And I'd like to be immobilized so I don't… I won't be able to stop myself from fighting the spell," she said, hoping the matron understood. She wasn't sure if she was going to handle the pain on its own, let alone fighting off three adults with the fractures and muscle damage.

"If that's what you want. I understand we can't give you anything for the pain?"

"No, the rune renders the chemical aids almost entirely useless during the removal, and the curse won't allow me to sleep or even lose consciousness," she explained.

"Is it possible he's created a fourth unforgivable curse?" Pomfrey wondered aloud. "I'm sorry you've had to endure this. I'll do everything in my power to help ease your pain." The healer replaced Hermione's tattered clothing, tended to the shoulder wound to stop the bleeding, and then invited Dumbledore and McGonagall back into the room. "Headmaster, I understand you know the spell to remove the curse?"

"I haven't performed it, but I've seen someone… I've seen the spell used for this purpose," he said, stumbling at the memory of Tom tearing the curse from her arm.

"Professor… Albus," Hermione caught his attention away from the memory. "It's no different than the catharsis."

"You and I both know this is different, but I understand. How do we do this without injuring you further?" he asked, taking her left hand in his.

Minerva and Poppy noted to familiarity between the two, and began to appreciate the depth of the friendship. It underscored the unorthodox nature of the situation.

"An immobilizing charm," she told him.

"Alright. Once we start, it will be for the best that I don't stop, and I have to go slow to make sure the rune doesn't break," he warned.

Poppy readied a basin of cool water and several cloths. "The sensation of being immobilized may be overwhelming, Hermione. Minerva and I can try to keep your focus away from those feelings of powerlessness."

When everyone was in place, Minerva immobilized her, but took care to allow Hermione to speak and move her head.

"Ready?" Dumbledore asked. When she nodded in confirmation, he pointed his wand, "_Deiectionem_."

The pain was suddenly familiar. A distant memory, abruptly brought into focus. Removing a curse that didn't want to let go, that had little to do with her desire for its removal, wasn't going to leave her with a feeling of relief as the _catharsis_ had. And it wasn't going to leave without a fight. Hermione turned her head to watch the tendrils rise up to the elder wand. It tore through her as it was pulled away from its grasp on her soul. Every other pain she felt faded out. All that existed was excruciating pain threatening to rend her soul in two. Through her screams she felt Minerva's gentle touch, wiping her forehead and brushing tears away. Hermione wanted to beg them all to stop, but knew they couldn't. If she asked, it would only contribute to their pain.

Dumbledore fought for twenty minutes, wanting to hurry along the process, but knowing the spell required a delicate balance of patience and determination. It didn't change the damage the process did to his own soul, knowing the pain she felt was at his hand. Finally, the universe determined his penance was over and the tendrils gave way. The relief that filled the room came in waves and rippled thirty years into the future to a trio of colleagues remembering the event for the first time. "_Revelare_," Dumbledore said, searching for any lingering curse. Finding none, he gently lowered her arm and looked into Hermione's eyes. "It's over, it's gone," he told her, but saw the pain lingered.

Minerva lifted the immobilizing charm while Poppy readied a series of potions. "Can you sit her up so she can drink?" Pomfrey asked the headmaster.

He supported Hermione under her left side, careful to avoid her right shoulder. With little effort, he had her propped up by the pillows McGonagall arranged. Hermione's hand gripped his sleeve. The movement was done with care but still excruciating. Finally letting exhaustion take hold, she settled back and let the healer pour the potions into her mouth. The relief from the pain was immediate. Sleep beckoned her. "I'll need her on her left side so I can mend the shoulder blade," Pomfrey instructed. Minerva and Dumbledore repositioned Hermione again. The healer opened up the back of the scrub top revealing a mosaic of bruises under the drying blood that covering Hermione's back. "She may wake briefly during the process, but the sleeping draught should help to bring her back under."

As Pomfrey positioned herself to have the best access to the injury. Dumbledore pulled up a chair, took Hermione's right arm to stabilize the limb, keeping her from moving it if she did awaken. "_Conponentes_," Pomfrey said.

Hermione jerked at the pain. Her eyes fluttered open, and a moan escaped her lips. "Shhh, it's ok," he comforted and watched her drift back under the blanket of sleep.

The three worked through the night. Mending bones and muscles, comforting the broken girl when she would surface from unconsciousness. By the morning, there was little more they could do until her body had recovered its own mechanisms for repair. Magic could speed up the process of healing, but it couldn't create the components the body needed. To Dumbledore's relief, she was no longer critical, but had a tough recovery ahead of her. Something he was sure she wouldn't want to hear. She would be in no condition to jump forward in the coming week as planned. Perhaps not even the following week.

~~/~~

Several hours later, Dumbledore rubbed the kinks out of his neck. Knocking on Minerva's office door, he considered the turn of events. Risking the timeline by allowing more people to interact with Hermione wasn't sitting well with him. He didn't know what other options he had. Pomfrey was right, by all accounts, Hermione should be under the care of healers at Saint Mungo's.

The door finally swung open. McGonagall looked as exhausted as he felt. "Albus," she greeted and moved aside. "Did you get some rest?"

"I did, thank you," he told her, accepting a mug of coffee. "How's our patient?"

Before she could respond, a small cry of pain escaped the open door across the office. Dumbledore rushed to the threshold to see the school matron stretching Hermione's right arm. Hermione was lying on her left side, head buried in her pillow with her free hand gripping the corner of the pillow so tightly, her knuckles were white. With two long strides, Dumbledore was at her side, freeing her hand to hold it himself.

"She's healing, Albus. Poppy was concerned her injuries would stiffen without some stretching," Minerva explained.

Pomfrey gently lowered Hermione's arm to her side. "We should get more fluids in her, and if we can, some food," she said. "There are still bones and muscles that need to mend."

Hermione finally chanced a look around the room. Her eyes were unfocused at first, but finally steadied on Dumbledore. "I'm ok," she tried to ease his concern.

"Well, no, you're not," he corrected and then reminded himself she was stronger than she looked lying in the bed, bruises a stark contrast on her otherwise pale skin. He needed to move her back to her new room in his wing. The fresh air of the secluded courtyard and the enchanted hideaway Newt made for her would do her good. It would also give her added protection.

An awkward silence descended on the room. "Can we have a minute?" Hermione finally asked. The two women seemed grateful for the chance to escape the tension. As the door shut, Hermione tried to sit up, but her weakened arms merely shook at the effort. It wasn't the display of strength she needed. Finally relenting, she let her friend reposition her, then watched him settle restlessly in a nearby chair. "You have something you want to say?"

"I'm not sure now is really the time," he started.

"Fine. I have some things to say then," she plowed on. "I didn't want this to happen."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him.

"You had your chance. I didn't seek any of this out, but I've also accepted the risks. Yes, in my time you asked me visit certain moments in history. You're naive to think you can shelter me from the dangers. In any time. I don't need your protection, I need your help, and I thought you understood that. I fought Voldemort out of my mind thanks to your help," she said. When he looked away at the thought of the occlumency lessons, she gave him the moment. Knowing she was getting through to him, she remembered his own, future words. "We have to choose between what is easy and what is right," she said.

He stood and paced the small room. "If you had told me what you were planning, I could have gotten to you sooner. I could have stopped him."

"And then what? You would have fought him? Had him arrested?"

"I would have killed him," Dumbledore answered quietly.

Taken aback, she watched him pace. "You don't mean that. Please sit, and talk to me."

"This is my fault, your situation, in several timelines," he confessed, sitting. "I knew Tom Riddle was dangerous the first time I met him. I was arrogant enough to believe I could mentor him. I saw Gellert in his eyes, and thought I had been given a second chance to stop a wizard from going down the wrong path. If I hadn't brought him here…"

Hermione took his hand and waited for him to look at her. Finally, their eyes met. She was surprised to see tears glistening there. Guessing reaction was more than guilt over the current situation, the pain was mirrored in her own face. "I'm sorry for your friend. And I'm sorry Tom Riddle couldn't be reached," she told him. "It's never wrong to try to help someone be better."

Rising, Dumbledore gave her hand one last squeeze and inhaled deeply. "Poppy will insist you eat so we can continue with the skele-gro treatments. Once that's done, I thought you might like to move to your new room. Spend some time in the sanctuary Newt made for you?"

The thought of additional administration from the matron was met with apprehension. Although, spending time in the fresh air of the sanctuary was appealing. "I would like to move. How much longer will Madam Pomfrey need to finish healing my injuries?"

"The most critical injuries should be on the mend, but Hermione," he grew serious. "You won't be fully healed for several weeks. You shouldn't be using the time turner this week or the next."

"I was afraid you'd say that, I know you're right," she relented. "Maybe some pumpkin juice will make the potions go down easier?" She's do the work required to heal, rework the jump calculations. Knowing there were several tasks planned in 1971 that would require her mobility, it was in her best interest that she wait. Shifting in her bed, a sharp pain up her leg confirmed this decision. The pain also brought her back into the room, Voldemort hovering over her. The memories would flash in her mind like a malfunctioning pensieve.

"I like your optimism, but fear it is misplaced," he said with some humor, missing the distant look as she relived her experience. "I'll get Poppy and Gerty."

"Wait," Hermione stopped him as she suddenly remembered being inside the mind of Voldemort.

Sensing the gravity behind the word, he moved back to her bedside. He watched her stare off into the distance, allowing a memory to surface.

"Albus," she started. "When the barrier went up, his legilimency rebounded. I saw his memories."

"Tell me," he encouraged, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice.

"He's killed. He's killed several people. With no remorse," she said. "What's a horcrux?"

Her question left him stunned. "Is he trying to learn about them?" he asked, unwilling to believe he was that far gone. Yet, this could explain his altered appearance. Why he looked less human somehow.

She shook her head. "He's making them."

~~/~~

**January 13, 1997**

The halls of Hogwarts were empty. Most students were in class, and those with free periods seemed to be congregating in their respective common rooms. Rumors of Hermione's situation had spread. Harry was certain those rumors were more fiction than fact. He didn't have the energy to correct the record. He was just grateful for the solitude as he made his way to the hospital wing. Standing in the doorway of Pomfrey's office, he saw Dumbledore, McGonagall, and the matron huddled around a parchment hovering above a desk. Harry cleared his throat.

The headmaster turned and beckoned Harry over. "Mr. Potter, she's recovering. Come and we'll fill you in."

Relieved, he tried to sneak a peek at the medical report. It was whisked away by Pomfrey and a silver tea service was conjured in its place. Once they all had a mug warming their hands, they settled into a seating area. "Ms. Granger was gravely injured," Pomfrey started. "Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall got to her very quickly, though. I was able to treat her before any permanent damage was done." Harry saw pain in Pomfrey eyes as she pressed on. "Broken bones, the hex, and the cruciatus curse."

"Fortunately, he was more interested in getting information from her about her ability to travel forward in time that most of his efforts were focused on legilimency. Which she blocked expertly," Dumbledore added.

"Her worst injury was to her right shoulder and her left hip. I don't expect either be fully healed before you'll see her again, but she's convalescing," Pomfrey finished.

"She and I discussed postponing her next jump, and she agreed it would be prudent to..." Dumbledore stopped. "Oh…" he finally breathed out, then stood. A look of horror transformed his face.

Harry stood. Terrified something had happened to Hermione, but Minvera and Pomfrey weren't reacting to any new memory. "Professor?"

"Harry, come with me," he said urgently and walked quickly out of the office with no explanation.

The two remaining adults exchanged concerned glances. Harry left them in their confusion. When he entered the hallway he was surprised to see how much ground the older man had already covered. He was headed toward the east wing. "Professor, where are we going?" he asked. No answer came until they entered the library.

"Irma, I need to keys to the restricted section," he said with authority. She didn't argue, handing over the key ring. "Harry, listen closely. Hermione has made a deeply disturbing discovery," he explained moving through the restricted section with practiced ease. Summoning three books, he handed them to Harry. "We cannot speak of it here. Take these books to my personal library. I have to speak with Professor Snape, and will meet you up there."

Harry knew this was not the time to protest the involvement of Snape, and turned to leave with an armful of books.

"It's very important that you not open those books until I arrive," the headmaster instructed. "Promise me Harry."

"I promise," he said. Fear rising up, but he pushed past it and left for the west tower.

Dumbledore took the moment alone to compose himself. Why had no one guessed Voldemort would be so ruthless? The guilt piled up, and he headed for the dungeons. Relieved to see Snape's office door open, he stepped inside and closed the door.

Severus stopped in the middle of removing his winter cloak. "Professor?"

Albus stepped forward and then cast a glance at the framed painting of Phineas Black. Snape followed his gaze. The frame was empty, but they both knew that the former headmaster may be out of sight and still in earshot.

"Muffliato," Snape said, flicking his want at the painting. "What's happened?"

"Is Voldemort still traveling?" Dumbledore started with the task from which Snape was returning.

"No one knows where he is. He's been obsessed with the connection between his and Harry's wands. Ollivander is still being held at Malfoy Manor, but it appears he was unable to provide the dark lord with a suitable replacement. His Death Eaters think he's trying to find a particular wand," Snape explained.

"The death stick," Dumbledore said. It was clear his words were a statement and not a question.

"Albus. What's happened?" he repeated.

"Ms. Granger is in 1967. She had a rather violent encounter with Voldemort," he started and saw the concern. "She's being tended to, but she saw inside his head. She saw some of his memories." Snape stood a little straighter. Dumbledore thought he saw pride for his student flash through the younger man. "He's made horcruxes."

It was rare for Snape to react in surprise; however, this news was a shock. "Horcruxes," he repeated slowly. "More than one."

"You didn't know?"

"I can't imagine Lord Voldemort would share that information with anyone for a number of reasons. Do we know how many?"

"Hermione has shared her memories of the encounter, but I have no memory yet of viewing them. Once they're in my pensieve inventory, I'll inform you," he explained. "This revelation is just now unfolding in the past. Please reconsider your previous encounters with Voldemort in the event he's revealed some details that weren't informative in the moment."

"Of course," he said. "I presume that he's aware of what Ms. Granger is doing if he's confronted her in 1967?"

"He knows she's moving through time, but does not know how. She demonstrated an adept occlumency skill," he said proudly.

"The dark lord was at the cusp of his rise to power in '67. If a sixth year fought him off he would, no doubt, be unhinged. How did she survive his wrath?"

"She produced another barrier without a wand. She was seriously injured, but he didn't kill her. We both know there is no barrier that would protect her from the killing curse. He had enough restraint to stop short of killing her. Which is curious all on its own," Dumbledore explained. "He has some plan in motion that requires Hermione. Alive and, I presume, in this time."

Snape put his cloak back on. "I'll head back to the London residence at once. There may be information in the headquarters that would be helpful."

"If you think you can return so soon without explanation, that would be best," he said, trusting Snape to make the best choices while still maintaining his cover.

"Lord Voldemort hasn't been seen or heard from in weeks. His Death Eaters have been off enriching themselves. I don't think anyone would have even noticed I left this morning, and can likely return without anyone questioning me," he explained and headed for the exit.

~~/~~

Hermione sat in a wheelchair basking in the magical sunshine of her sanctuary. A group of swooping shadows played near a small lake in the distance. Shiloh would periodically break away from the pack to nudge Hermione's knee. Each time, she looked up from her book and would gentle pet the creature. When her stomach growled, Gerty knowingly apparated in front of her. "Master Hermione, Master Albus says you need to take your potions and wants to know if you want to eat here or in his courtyard?" the house elf said in one long breath, and walked around to the back of the chair.

"Is there another way up to the courtyard, or will I need to get up the stairs?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

The house elf leaned in conspiratorially, "Gerty has been given permission to apparate you up there."

Letting Gerty push her chair inside and to a small table near the fire, Hermione considered the line of bottles. Potions that would ease pain, mend injuries, and keep a curse contained. She wondered how this had become her life. Before the Christmas holiday she knew a confrontation with Voldemort would be inevitable. She had assumed they would get through their seventh year, feel more prepared. "Could you tell the headmaster I don't feel up to apparating just yet?" Hermione asked, picking up the first bottle. The disappointment was clear on the small face. "Maybe you could prepare a sitting area in my patio?"

Gerty perked up at the task and disappeared.

Hermione was struggling with a stopper when a knock sounded. Then a loud crash reverberated from the other side of the patio doors. Gerty was enthusiastically rearranging the furniture. When Dumbledore opened the door, concerned at the sound, he looked from Hermione to the house elf and back.

"She wants to help," he said simply, hovering at the threshold, large books in his arms. "May I come in?"

"Yes. Could you…?" Hermione said, holding up the potion with the stubborn cork. He set the books down and when he opened it with ease, she was forced to confront her weakened state. Her right arm still in a sling while her shoulder healed. Her muscles had an occasional tremor. She hadn't even tried to stand up, knowing it would be impossible with her hip and broken legs. She knew the magical theory. She needed to eat to restore the energy her body needed for the healing magic harness. Drinking from the freshly opened bottle, a wave of warmth washed over her, numbing the sharp pains in its wake. "Thank you. That's better."

Dumbledore offered a curt nod and summoned a chair to sit down next to her. "I watched the memories," he said. She offered them to him after the revelation of the horcruxes. "You were right, there's a lot missing from the encounter. Your recollections may sharpen with time, as you process, but some may never come back with clarity."

She looked away with frustration and shame. "I went in that room to find out why he came back here and can't remember what I saw. This wasn't even worth it," she lamented, motioning to her battered body.

"On the contrary, your peek into his mind was crystal clear. You may not remember everything he did in that room; however, I would argue you uncovered something much more important. Voldemort has gone down a darker path than anyone could have imagined," he said.

A sharp stab of pain hit Hermione at her temples. Wincing, her uninjured hand flew up, trying to rub away the pain. Dumbledore's eyes narrowed. Resisting the urge to update her medical chart, he picked up the Maledictum Capio. Opened it and handed it to her.

They shared a moment of concern. He waited for her to drink the containment draught before continuing. "I removed several books from the restricted section. Tomes I think that gave Tom Riddle the initial idea."

Hermione looked at the ancient books with some disdain. "They explain how?"

"No," he answered quickly. "These books stop just short of that. There's enough information here for Tom to get the idea. Someone would have been needed to teach him the theory."

"Slughorn," she said without thinking. This was the memory Harry was trying to recover.

Dumbledore sat back. He hadn't considered this, that a teacher would share such dark magic with a student. "Hermione," he started seriously. "I can't in good conscience let him continue making horcruxes. The ministry has to know about this."

"You have to let this play out," she told him. "I think you're close in my time to learning about this. I know this won't make sense now, but you have to wait until Harry gets the memory from Professor Slughorn."

"And let him kill innocent people?" he asked incredulously.

"He's already kill them. If you go after his horcruxes now, you run the risk of him finding out. Killing more people to replace them," she said rationally.

He knew she was right. There was more a stake than his comfort. "For the greater good…" he said with biting irony.

~~/~~

Harry paced the small library, casting glances at the books from the restricted section with each pass. After all this time, he should be used to this feeling of helplessness, he told himself. Shoving his hands in his pockets, his right bumped up against a small crystal vial. Pulling it out, he suddenly remembered the memory from Slughorn. It seemed so inconsequential now. Then again, he wondered if maybe it held some key to these secrets and it had been collecting pocket lint. A noise at the door caught his attention, looking up he saw the books were suddenly gone. He looked to his headmaster entering from across the room, and then back to the now empty desk. "Professor," he said, uncertain where to even start. "The books. They just…"

"Disappeared?" he asked knowingly, and walked to a plain looking cabinet. After some complicated motions with his wand, Dumbledore opened a door that appeared. Pulling the books out, he looked to Harry. "I removed them from the library as soon as Hermione told me what Voldemort was doing. Once I took that action in the past, they were no longer in the library for us to take."

Harry sat heavily in a chair. His head hurt. "Why do I remember taking them?"

"Because we did," he said simply and started flipping through the top book.

"Wait, professor, I have something that might help," he said, waiting for the older man's attention. Then held up the vial. "It's Professor Slughorn's memory. I got it a few days ago."

Flipping the cover shut, Dumbledore set the books down on a small desk. "You have it?"

"Well, I think so. I haven't watched it." Harry couldn't say more. He was too confused watching his headmaster tapping randomly at a plane stone wall. Then it swung open, revealing a hidden room.

Dumbledore didn't wait for Harry to follow and didn't explain himself. The memory was collected. The destruction of the horcruxes could begin. He opened a small box sitting on top of the fireplace mantle, and took out a small piece of parchment. A short list of six items were written simply at the top. Two were crossed out. "Harry, we have work to do."


End file.
